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ELOISE. 




LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Reeelved 

APS 16 1907 

Cooyrteht Entry 

cck^. Ks. »<ioi 

CCISS O/ XXc.1 No. 


COt'Y B. 



I 


Copyright 1907 

BY 

EVIK SARTOR BYRD 


All Rights Reserved 


• • 
• • c 




To my good friend, 

JOHN RUSH NEWMAN, 
of Straw Plains, Tennessee, this book 
most respectfully dedicated. 



/ . 


/ 



A MODERN EVIL 


CHAPTER 1. 

A MODERN EVIL. 

In one of our Southern cities the town clock 
was striking the hour of nine. With the last 
stroke a young man came out of an office in an 
uptown building which bore the sign: “Van 
Worth & Nevarro.” Locking the door behind 
him he paused for a moment under a flaring 
street lamp, and striking a match succeeded after 
some difficulty in lighting his cigar. Then pull- 
ing his hat lower over his eyes, walked hurriedly 
down street. A weary, chilly rain was falling, 
freezing as it fell, and the streets usually so 
crowded at such times ( it was Saturday night and 
the twenty-third of December) were almost de- 
serted. The young man shivered and turned 
up the collar of his great coat. He heard the 
dull monotonous hum of a street car as it turned 
the corner of the street and came like a flash 
down the track behind him singing as it went. 
He wished that he were able to ride to his own 
door. It passed with a speed like lightning, 
find Earle Nevarro, the junior partner of the 


2 


A Modern Evil 


firm for which he worked as assistant book- 
keeper, was hanging on behind. He recognized 
the young man and threw up his hand in recog- 
nition. Jack Venarez crossed the car track, and 
a few moments later ran up the steps of his 
home. A pretty girl of fourteen rose to greet 
him as he came into the small, cozy sitting- 
room. She had been singing her baby brother 
to sleep. She rose as her brother came forward, 
and stood holding his hands before the fire. 

“It’s a bitter cold night, old girl,” he said, 
drawing his shoulders together, in an involuntary 
shudder. “It’s freezing outside.” 

“Yes, Jack,” the girl replies, as she stirs the 
fire briskly until it throws out a ruddy glow. 
“Sit down and get warm, and then you shall 
have supper. You can go to the dining-room, 
or I will bring it in to the fire.” 

“Thanks, I’ll go to the table.” 

Bending over the crib he said : 

“The little man’s asleep, is he? I have some- 
thing for him, and for you, too.” 

“Oh, have you? You’re the best brother in 
the world. Jack. What did you get Hugh?” 

“Help me off with my coat,” her brother said, 
tugging away at the article in question, “and 
then you can see.” 

There was a toy locomotive with cars, a drum 
and a horn, and several other little things which 
were intended to fill baby Hugh’s small soul 
with delight; besides a goodly supply of fruits 
and candy. Eloise was delighted. She pictured 
to herself how happy baby would be on the mor- 
row. Jack h^d bought for her a writing desk, ^ 


A Modern Evil 


3 


pearl pen-holder and a book of poems, which im- 
mediately claimed her attention. She was an in- 
veterate book-worm, and Jack, like many other 
young men in a similar dilemma, had decided 
upon the book for a holiday gift, not knowing 
what else to buy. He could not have pleased his 
sister better had he tried ever so much ; and after 
glancing it through hurriedly, with a smile of sat- 
isfaction she laid it aside, and, lighting a small 
lamp, led the way to the dining-room. Jack fol- 
lowed, and, drawing a chair up to the table, sat 
down. He was a handsome boy of eighteen, tall, 
broad-shouldered, slightly inclined to stoutness, 
with a large, well-shaped head, closely covered 
with a growth of light curly hair. His dark blue 
eyes, firm well-set jaw, and a good-natured, well- 
formed mouth, made his appearance very pleas- 
ing. His half sister was very pretty. Her 
sombre black dress enhanced her ivory-white 
complexion, and showed off her slender graceful 
figure to perfection. Her eyes were an expres- 
sive gray, her lips were full and red. She had 
little color, but her face was wondrously fair and 
delicately rounded, while her thick, long hair was 
a glossy brown. It was combed straight back 
from the high white forehead and tied with a 
bow of black ribbon. They were not at all alike. 
Jack had been working only for a few months. 
Up to that time he had attended school regularly, 
and possessed a fair education. But his father 
had died six months before this story opens, and 
Jack had been obliged to leave school and to take 
his father’s place in the office. His mother had 
died when he was only two years old. They lived 


4 


A Modern Evil 


in Texas then, and Jack’s grandparents were still 
there. His grandfather owned much real estate 
and an extensive cattle farm. His mother was 
an only child, and when she died and Mr. Ven- 
arez came South, Jack was left with his grand- 
parents, who begged that they might keep him. 
Two years later, however, his father married the 
second time and sent for little Jack. When Jack 
was about five years old Eloise was born; and 
then twelve years later little Hugh. Mrs. Ven- 
arez, the second, lived only six montns after 
Hugh was born, and then died, as all her family 
had, of consumption, leaving the duties of house- 
keeping and the care of little Hugh to poor 
Eloise. But she did her duty nobly and well, 
though her father’s unexpected death had for- 
ever blotted out the hope she cherished of com- 
pleting her education. True, there was Mrs. 
Maxcy, a good soul with no one but herself, 
whom her mother had often employed, and who 
always discharged her duties faithfully; but she 
could not leave Hugh to her keeping altogether. 
Therefore she resigned herself to the inevitable, 
although it cost her a bitter pang. Her friends 
were few. She never went anywhere except 
occasionally to church, and now and then to her 
father’s and mother’s grave. They lived in the 
poorer part of the city, and some of Eloise’s 
neighbors were not as desirable as she would 
have liked. During her father’s lifetime they 
had lived in a better part of the town, for his 
salary was better than Jack’s — a fact at which 
that young fellow often marvelled — for if he 
could fill his father’s place, and do the work just 


A Modern Evil 


5 


as well, why, he reasoned, did he not receive the 
same compensation. The ways of employers are 
froward and strange, and so our friends had to 
live within their income, and very reluctantly left 
their old home with its bitter-sweet associations, 
and moved further down town. Eloise shed a few 
regretful tears at first. It was hard to leave the 
place where her dear father and mother had 
died; but as the days went on she grew to love 
her new home, and she had Jack and little Hugh 
to live for still. Contrary to the girl’s expecta- 
tions, but few of the friends of her former life 
ever visited her in her new position; she seemed 
to have passed out of their lives and memory 
altogether. Poor child! She had yet to learn 
how cruel this old world can be to those who 
have gone down in the strife. Of her for- 
mer associates but one came to see her almost 
daily as of old. Ada Dalton was an orphan. 
She lived with her aunt. Miss Hilton, a maiden 
lady who had reared her. She was a pretty 
brunette, a year older than Eloise. They had 
been friends for several years, and during all 
Eloise’s sorrow she had been her chief consoler. 
She it was who came every day or so and bright- 
ened by her lively play of wit the girl’s saddened 
lot. She attended every juvenile social function 
and entertained Eloise with bright accounts of 
them. The latter had never attended any such 
things — the little diversions that go to make a 
girl’s life happy — and she enjoyed to the utmost 
hearing Ada’s accounts of the “good times” 
which she always had. She longed to live such a 
life as this as only a pretty girl hampered by 


6 


A Modern Evil 


circumstances, and who sees it all from the out- 
side can long. Jack rose from the table. 

“I was paid off to-night,” he said, and reach- 
ing for his purse he turned to his sister and 
emptied its contents into her hand. 

“Put that away and keep it. There’s no telling 
what we might need, you know. I see Earle 
Nevarro it home for the holidays. I should like 
to be in his place ; he ought to be happy — ^he has 
everything. I suppose Serrell Levare is home 
also. They are attending the citadel together.” 

The girl’s thoughts instantly reverted to the 
dark, quite-looking young fellow who had so 
often seen her on her way to and from school; 
who always lifted his hat courteously, and who 
once, when she had fallen and sprained her ankle, 
had had her carried home in his uncle’s (Mr. 
Van Worth’s) handsomely appointed carriage, 
which happened to be passing; and always after 
that when he spoke to her he smiled slightly in 
recognition ; and Eloise fancied he always seemed 
just a wee bit glad to see her. It had been a 
long, long time since she had seen him. His 
parents were dead, and his uncle, who had 
brought him up, was educating him. When they 
were again in the sitting-room, Jack said : 

“Mr. Van Worth has promised to raise my 
salary after Christmas. He says he couldn’t get 
anyone else to do the work for the money I re- 
ceive, and he is going to give me a lift. By Jove ! 
That’s a pretty little girl he’s got. Ever see her ? 
Well, she’s a stunner, sure ! Pretty as red shoes, 
and cheeky isn’t a name for it ! I was never in- 
troduced to her in my life, but she always has 


A Modern Evil 


7 


something to say to me when she’s around. 
Comes down to the store every day,” lighting his 
cigar and throwing his head back. ‘‘Drives her 
own turnout and dresses out o’ sight. Whew ! 
I’d like to see you rigged up like her once, Eloise. 
Guess she and Nevarro will marry when she 
grows up. Keep the money together, you know. 
Rich folks have a knack of doing that sort of 
thing. Before I forget, I guess I’d better ask 
you for a little of that change that I gave you. I 
gave you all I had, and I’ll need a little along. 
It takes money to smoke, you know, and that 
must go on though the heavens fall.” 


8 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER II. 

OUR HEROINE FINDS A NEW FRIEND. 

‘"No one can be happy without a friend, and no 
one can know what friends he has until he is un- 
happy. Oh! the comfort, the inexpressible com- 
fort, of feeling safe with a person — having 
neither to weigh the thoughts nor measure the 
words, but pouring them right out, just as they 
are, chaff and grain together, certain that a 
faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what 
is worth keeping, and then with the breath of 
kindness, blow the rest away.’" 

— Selected. 

Christmas had passed and February thaws had 
left the streets and roads wet and sloppy. There 
was a monotonous dripping from the eaves, and 
little pools of water stood all about. Eloise had 
taken a severe cold, which compelled her to re- 
main indoors. It was bad enough before, when 
she could be out in the open air, she reasoned 
bitterly. Jack had brought her several new 
books at noon, and she had tried to read them, 
but her head ached, and little Hugh fretted in- 
cessantly. She was looking out at the passing 
vehicles, when some one ran up the steps and 


A Modern Evil 


9 

crossed the piazza, then, opening the door, paused 
in the hall. 

“May I come in?” a cheery voice called, and 
Ada Dalton, enveloped in her rain coat, came 
smiling into the room. 

“I’m awfully glad to see you, Ada,” Eloise 
says, and drawing a chair near the fire for her, 

“Aren’t you cold?” 

The girl shook her head. 

“No; if I took cold every time I stepped out 
this sort of weather I’d freeze. Aunt Emma 
scolds me for running about so much, but really, 
I can’t stay indoors, Eloise ! It stifles me. Jack 
told me you were complaining, and I decided to 
run over and tell you the news. You should have 
been at the dance last night, Eloise,” she con- 
tinued, her eyes sparkling. “The music was ex- 
quisite ! The boys sent to Charleston for it. The 
hall was crowded; some of the most exquisite 
costumes ! I’m so glad that this place is no larger 
than it is; for you know in larger cities girls of 
my age do not go into society at all. Zida Van 
Worth was there, and the boys were wild about 
her. Not so much for herself, I think, as for the 
fortune which they imagine she will one day in- 
herit. Her moonstones are lovely. They are 
her hobby, she says, and her father gave her a 
full set Christmas. Lillian Nevarro was there, 
too. She is a peculiar looking girl — so quiet, so 
different from Zida. Most people are of the 
opinion that she tries to be very exclusive ; but I 
don’t know. Some imagine that Earle is the 
same way, but that’s a mistake. I know Earle 
well,” smilingly, “and he’s just as cordial as he 


10 


A Modern Evil 


can be. He and Serrell are at school now. We 
had a gay time when they were here Christmas, 
but I believe I told you about that? I met a 
young man last night, Eloise, and I wish you 
could see him. He is as handsome as a Greek, 
and audacious ? Well I should say ! I promised 
to let him call upon me, though I know Earle will 
be jealous,” blushing. “But, then, he needn’t 
know it. Don’t say anything to Jack about what 
I tell you, Eloise. I’ll tell you anything, you 
know. I do wish to goodness you’d hurry and 
come out of that dreadful black and go around, 
too. We’d have such glorious times together. 
How long do you mean to wear it?” 

“I hardly know,” Eloise says slowly. 

There was a moment’s silence. Ada’s eyes were 
fixed on the dying embers, from whence came a 
musical singing sound. A car hummed past. “I 
wonder how far in the future our pathways will 
sever?” she asks suddenly, and Eloise detected 
touching sadness in her words. “Eloise, you 
know I have never known a mother’s love,” she 
went on. “I have never had anyone to tell me 
what I imagine most mothers tell their growing 
daughters, for though Aunt Emma is very kind, 
she is so peculiar, you know. That was one rea- 
son I loved your mother so. She did not hesitate 
to give me advice on all subjects. They say that 
everything happens for the best, and I try to 
think so; yet I cannot but question why my 
mother was taken from me. But I must not 
make you sad, dear; so let’s change the subject. 
Have you seen Earle Nevarro since he’s been 
wearing a uniform?” she begins suddenly. “You 


A Modern Evil 


II 


should, Eloise. It sets him off splendidly. All 
the girls are wild about him, and you’d be, too, if 
you could only see him. You know that Tillman 
says that brass buttons are great girl fascinators ; 
and he is right, as he invariably is. Serrell Le- 
vare is so different from Earle. He’s so grave — 
so quiet; not unlike Lillian Nevarro. You and 
Serrell would go nicely together. You don’t talk 
much either; so you could just sit together and 
hold solemn silence. Don’t get angry with me, 
Eloise. You know I always would tease you.” 

“Yes,” Eloise replied smiling, “go ahead. I 
don’t mind. I’m used to it, you see.” 

They talked on until nearly dark. Then Ada 
rose, saying she must go. 

“Come around, Eloise, and bring the baby,” 
she called back as she fastened the gate. Eloise 
stood in the doorway watching her off. A mag- 
nificent coupe dashed by, and she recognized Mrs. 
Van Worth and Zida. Twilight was falling. The 
girl sighed, and went slowly back into the room. 
Just then little Hugh yawned, and rubbing his 
eyes, sat up in his cradle. His sister lifted 
him out and sat rocking him beside the fire. 

5i£ * 

May had come, beautiful, warm and sunny. 
Eloise no longer had to remain indoors. She 
took Hugh for daily walks. The little fellow 
could toddle beside her now. She took him two 
or three times a week to the cemetery, and while 
she knelt beside her mother’s grave, he ran about 
jabbering pretty, babyish nothings. One evening 
as they were coming home from one of their 
usual walks, Hugh espied a dappled hobby-horse 


12 


A Modern Evil 


in one of the shop windows, and his baby heart 
warmed to it at once. She lifted him up to get a 
closer view of the pretty toy, and baby stretched 
out two tiny, coaxing hands and jabbered to it 
lovingly; as she moved away he cried for it. 
“Hush, Hugh, darling,” the girl murmured con- 
solingly. “Wait until Jack gets well, and he will 
get you one a great deal nicer than that.” 

Jack had not been well for a month, and, con- 
sequently, had not been working. He had been 
compelled to draw upon his surplus funds until 
they had almost disappeared, and little Hugh had 
to go without many things which otherwise he 
would have had. But the baby heart refused to 
be comforted, and Eloise could not repress her 
own tears while he was sobbing in disappoint- 
ment. Upon turning a corner she came face to 
face with Serrell Levare. He lifted his hat, 
smiled and passed on. But the girl wondered 
what he thought of her, for her lips were trem- 
bling — her eyes full of tears. She hurried home, 
for Jack was alone, and it was getting late. Hugh 
had fallen asleep, but was sobbing still. The 
girl’s heart grew very bitter toward the world. 
She wondered if she would go on living in ob- 
scurity and poverty all her life. She had been 
told when she was at school that a bright future 
was before her ; but that future was long in com- 
ing, she mused. Jack lay on the lounge asleep. 
How pale he was! It touched her heart to see 
him growing so thin and white. Jack had been 
too closely confined of late. But where was the 
remedy for it? They had to live, and she could 
not help him. Mrs. Maxcy was in the dining- 


A Modern Evil 


13 


room, putting away the tea dishes. She was 
singing some quaint old song as she worked. 
Eloise sat in the gathering twilight, and in her 
mind a plan for her future was forming. Some- 
times a dream came to her — a dream whose reali- 
zation would have seemed unattainable to anyone 
whose ambition were not indomitable. She never 
spoke of her aspirations, but in her heart they 
took shape and life. She went to the piano and 
commenced to play. Her fingers dwelt long on a 
deep minor chord which she had just learned. 
She let its music fill her soul. It spoke to her 
desolate heart of hope, and filled her life with a 
longing which her lips could not express. She 
thought of the time when she had played and 
sang with her dead mother in other days — days 
that were all sunshine, but alas ! gone forever, 
and her heart rebelled bitterly against this freak 
of a cruel destiny. Some one came up the steps, 
and, pausing at the door, rapped sharply. Mrs. 
Maxcy answered the summons, and came into 
the room carrying a large package. 

'‘A boy gave me this for you,” she said. “A 
white boy, and he said a young man sent it.” 

“I wonder whom it could have been,” Eloise 
said, as she undid the package in nervous haste. 

“I didn’t ask him,” the good woman replied. 
“He seemed to be in a hurry.” 

The package was addressed to Eloise in large 
scrawling capitals, and as the paper fell off she 
uttered a little cry. It was the hobby horse 
which baby had so coveted. To one foot was at- 
tached a card on which was hastily pencilled: “To 
Master Hugh Venarez. From a friend.” 


H 


A Modern Evil 


A few evenings later Serrell Levare opened 
the gate of the Van Worth yard and sauntered 
into the house. He went through the sitting- 
room and library, but not finding his cousin he 
made his way to her own special boudoir, and 
paused at the door. He heard a slight noise in- 
side and rapped. 

“Who’s there? Is that you, Serrell?” a shrill 
girlish voice called. “Come in.” 

“Thanks,” he replied. “What are you driving 
at? Eating, as usual, eh?” 

“Yes,” she replied, rising. “Mamma and I 
were so desperately hungry we couldn’t wait for 
papa and you any longer; and it was merely to 
satisfy a caprice of mine that she allowed me to 
have it in here. Come and have some tea with 
me,” filling a dainty Dresden cup she held with 
that beverage. “Now, don’t say you won’t, Ser- 
rell,” looking coaxingly at him, and pushing his 
cup and the sugar toward him. “This is really 
excellent, I assure you, and I want you to try it.” 

“Yes, I don’t object seriously to some tea,” he 
returned, slowly stirring it. “I’m a little hungry 
this evening.” 

“That’s right. Now let me light a lamp. It’s 
so dark I can’t see.” 

Levare sipped his tea, while his cousin lighted 
a lamp on a nearby table. 

“Now talk to me,” she said. “I’m just dying 
to chat with someone. I’ve had nobody to talk to 
all day. Mamma is in the mumps, and won’t 
talk at all. Don’t know why, unless she imagines 
that papa has his eye on another woman, and 


A Modern Evil 


15 

don’t love her any more,” with a wicked little 
laugh. 

Serrell raised his eyes to her face and smiled. 
She was a pretty little creature, this cousin of 
his. Her house dress of pale blue silk showed 
off her wild rose complexion, and short, boyish 
curls of an undeniable dark red, to perfection. 
Her nose was small, piquant and freckled; her 
eyes were brown and mischievous, and she had a 
peculiar way of half closing them when she re- 
garded you. Two deep dimples gave her the 
appearance of bjing younger than she really wao. 
Her mouth was small and red, and turned up at 
the corners — a sure sign of good humor — her 
smile irresistible, and it was a perfectly charm- 
ing face that was just opposite him. The young 
man watched her curiously as she sipped her tea. 

‘‘Where is aunty ?” he asked suddenly, not look- 
ing up. 

“Oh, she finished a few moments ago and went 
into her room. She’s working hard to finish that 
new linen centre-piece she began yesterday. 
She’s had me at one all day, too, and I despise it. 
I hate to work anyway; it’s galling to the flesh, 
it is,” laughing. 

There was a moment’s silence. 

“What’s the matter with you? Grieving?’^ she 
questioned suddenly. Serrell pushed back his 
cup. 

“No. Zida, why don’t you and Aunt Anna 
drive around to see Jack Venarez’ sister? I 
heard her say she used to know Mrs. Venarez 
before she was married ; yet she never went about 
her during her illness, nor when she died. The 


A Modern Evil 


i6 

girl has lost her father since then, and yesterday I 
heard that Jack and the little boy were both ill. 
In fact Jack has been unable to be out for a long 
time; and the poor girl is all alone with them 
to care for. I swear it’s a shame. Aunt Anna 
pretends to be such a Christian, and belongs to 
two or three so-called humane societies, and yet 
she never goes near those people. It takes a 
woman to be thoroughly niggardly and mean 
when she sets her head. Why don’t you go to 
see that girl, Zida?” blushing slightly. 

Zida’s chin was resting in her white jeweled 
hand. 

“I have never thought of it,” she said at last, 
“though what you say is true, Serrell, quite true,” 
contemplating him through her half-closed brown 
eyes. “Why shouldn’t I go to see her? She has 
such a sweet face. I have seen her several times ; 
she and her little brother. He is such a pitiful 
looking child. I wonder mamma has not gone to 
see them, and I am surprised that I have not 
thought of that before. It is a shame, Serrell — a 
downright shame. I’ll go down there to-mor- 
row.” 

Levare was satisfied. He knew his cousin 
always kept her promise, and that she never di 1 
anything by halves. Zida had told the truth. 
She had not thought of it. So she went, and a 
friendship was formed between them that was 
never afterwards broken. As the days went on 
the two were much together. They played an^l 
sang, and Zida kept Eloise supplied with book'-' 
She detested anything but the Duchess’ nove^*^' 
she told Eloise on one occasion when she had 


A Modern Evil 


17 


brought several historical works at Eloise’s re- 
quest ; and she didn’t see how she endured them. 
But Eloise had taken a fancy that she would 
some day make literature a profession, and in her 
spare time she applied herself to reading most 
assiduously. Zida played brilliantly for one of 
her age, but anyone could see her music was 
purely mechanical. Often she took Eloise and 
Hugh out driving. Poor little fellow ! How he 
enjoyed those rides! And how few diversions 
his short, cramped existence had known I He was 
looking pale, and Eloise fancied that he needed 
something — a change — she knew not what. She 
had a miserable premonition that he would be 
taken from her, and she put the thought from her, 
for it was like the advance of death. Her starved 
heart clung tenaciously to her little brother. Zida 
told her that she and her cousin, Lillian Nevarro, 
were going to school in September, and the girl 
mused sadly how keenly she would feel her loss. 

“There will be a whole month before we go off 
to the grind,” she had said one day to Eloise. 
“How I wish I were you ! I detest going to 
school !” Eloise regarded her incredulously. Did 
she mean it? She was rich and beautiful, yet 
devoid of ambition. She had one of the best 
music instructors in the South, and she had been 
taking dancing lessons off and on all her life ; but 
she hated the sight of books. Serrell and Zida 
had become regular visitors at the small, well- 
kept cottage on South Street. He and Jack be- 
came chums, though their dispositions formed a 
peculiar contrast. Eloise was no longer lonely, 
and many happy hours were spent in that quiet, 


i8 


A Modern Evil 


little sitting room. Zida and Jack laughed and 
chatted, while Eloise played and sang for Serrell, 
or discussed with him something she had read; 
for Serrell was a great lover of books, too. 

He * * * 

It was now the last of October. Jack had been 
ill for six weeks with typhoid fever, and he had 
been very near death’s door. Night after night 
Eloise had watched beside him, and she looked 
very pale and worn as a result. This was the 
darkest epoch in the girl’s short life. All their 
little savings had been exhausted long ago, and 
Jack lay weak, pale and utterly helpless. Hugh 
was not well either, and Eloise noted with grow- 
ing alarm that he grew daily more pale and thin. 
He needed medical attention, she knew, but she 
was perfectly penniless. They could hardly live. 
Her friends were away at school, and she was 
alone. Mr. Van Worth had called once or twice 
to see Jack, for he liked his young clerk, and 
promised to hold his situation open for him, and 
said his salary should go on. They were thankful 
for that ; but his salary was not large at best, and 
doctor’s visits and large bills are synonymous 
terms. So poor Eloise found herself unavoidably 
short of funds. She had just been trying to feed 
Hugh, but it was not good, and baby turned 
away with a sad cry. All that night the girl lay 
awake thinking — thinking bitterly. What would 
become of them? There was no one for her to 
go to in her trouble. Ada and her aunt had been 
gone all summer. Once she thought of appealing 
to Jack’s employer for aid. But no ; she couldn’t 
make up her mind to do that, for Mr. Van Worth 


A Modern Evil 


19 


had already shown them marked generosity. Mrs. 
Van Worth had never been to see them, and she 
knew how ill Jack had been, too. Once she tried 
to pray, but her heart was too bitter. What had 
she ever done, she questioned passionately, to de- 
serve such punishment ? They had sold the piano 
three weeks ago, but it was old, and second-hand 
furniture never commands a great price. In a 
distant belfrey a bell was tolling mournfully. It 
smote upon the girl’s senses like the knell of 
doom. It broke her heart to see baby growing 
so pitifully pale and thin, when money could have 
brought color to his wan little face. In after 
years Eloise thanked God that she had not been 
tempted then. She could hold out against the 
clamorings of her own body ; she was afraid she 
could not have seen Jack and Hugh suffer, if it 
had come to the worst, and it had lain in her 
power to save them. When she told Mrs. Maxcy 
her trouble, that good woman could offer no ad- 
vice, but mournfully shook her head and “wished 
to goodness she could help her.” 

Jack was in that dreadfully weak state of con- 
valescence when one takes no interest in any- 
thing, feeling that such an effort would be too 
great a tax on one’s powers of recuperation. 

The next morning Eloise asked Mrs. Maxcy to 
stay with Jack until she could go down town. 
She had thought of everything, but her mind was 
now quite made up. 

“But you are not going to take Hugh?” the 
good woman questioned as she came in and found 
Eloise dressing her little brother. “He will be so 
heavy for you to carry.” 


20 


A Modern Evil 


But she said she was going to take him, and 
putting on his little cap, she took him up in her 
arms, and started off almost on a run. She 
walked on and on, until her head ached, and she 
was very tired. At last she entered a store that 
advertised hair goods, and walking up to the 
proprietor, asked what he would give her for her 
hair, at the same time putting Hugh down and 
unpinning it, allowed it to fall in a rippling mass 
below her waist. The manager stood quizzically 
surveying the girl through half-closed eyes. 

‘‘Well, Miss,” he said hypocritically, “it’s not 
the shade to command a very good price ” 

The girl turned her appealing blue eyes to his. 
It seemed her very life depended upon his answer. 
He regarded her silently a moment. He was not 
a very lenient young man, but something in the 
girl’s expression touched him. 

“I guess I can give you eight dollars for it,” he 
said. 

“Very well,” the girl replied, with a weary 
sigh, though a little catch in her voice told him 
how relieved she was, “please have it cut at once.” 

So an elderly woman with short gray hair and 
a kindly light in her blue eyes, came forward, and 
Eloise was soon deprived of what it had taken 
her years of care to produce. The young man 
counted out her money. She received it like one 
in a dream. She hurried on, for it was growing 
cool, and the girl shivered. All around her there 
was life — ^the ever-shifting, shuffling, bustling life 
of a busy city. She knew no one, and no one 
cared to know her. She felt like one looking on 
in a life-like panorama — she could see, and feel, 


A Modern Evil 


21 


and know, but was not of them. Her arm ached 
under Hugh’s weight. Once she looked up as a 
magnificent coupe, drawn by a pair of beautiful 
bays, dashed by. She saw the face of Mrs. Van 
Worth. She did not recognize Eloise, however, 
but addressed some light remark to her compan- 
ion — a slender, pale woman, who leaned wearily 
back on her luxurious cushions. The girl’s heart 
grew bitter to bursting. Ah, well ! No one cared 
for her. No one would care if she dropped dead 
on the pavement — she and baby Hugh Ah ! there 
is nothing sadder in life than to feel that we are 
nothing to anyone ; that should we die we would 
not be missed! It has been truly said that no 
matter how great one may be, his place can be 
filled. Then how can anyone rise so high in his 
own estimation as to imagine that the world 
would go to speedy destruction in case of his in- 
evitable demise? 

Hugh had been trying to walk, but he couldn’t 
keep up with his sister, so she took him up in her 
arms again. Presently she entered an office over 
which hung a sign : Dr. J. C. Downs. 

When the worthy doctor had examined baby’s 
mouth he gave forth the edict that he was getting 
ready to cut his eye-teeth. 

“Has he always been delicate?” he asked. 

“No, he was always a hearty little fellow until 
a month ago,” the girl answered. 

“Yes, his system is much weakened,” the physi- 
cian went on, with that usual sang-froid with 
which those of the profession generally impart 
unwelcome information to us. “You must be 
very careful of him. I will write him a prescript- 


22 


A Modern Evil 


tion which you can take down to my drug store 
and have prepared.” 

Little Hugh had been making a critical ex- 
amination of the furniture in the room; with his 
head turned to one side, his peculiar bright brown 
eyes very wide open, he jabbered interrogatively. 

“He seems to be a bright little fellow,” the doc- 
tor said, as he handed Eloise the prescription. 

“He is,” she replied, drawing the little one 
affectionately toward her; “he’s just as bright as 
he can be ; too much so I fear.” 

“Oh, no,” added the little man, briskly, twist- 
ing in his chair; “that old superstitious theory 
is out of date. I don’t believe in such things. 
Give him good nutritious food — oatmeal and 
milk, and take good care of him and he’ll soon be 
all right.” 

The girl handed him his fee, and taking Hugh 
up again, bade him “good evening” and left. The 
doctor’s words beat like a hammer through her 
brain: “Give him good nutritious food!” Ah, 
heaven I how was she to do it ? 

She had but seven dollars now, and she had 
not yet paid for the medicine. That would surely 
be another dollar. Then she had five to pay for 
house rent, and that would leave her but one dol- 
lar. The landlord knew the poor girl’s circum- 
stances perfectly — that she had a sick brother, no 
money, and nowhere to go; and yet he told her 
that unless the rent was paid they must move out. 
He whose own daughter had never known want ; 
but only luxurious ease all her life. He had no 
immediate need of the money which had. cost the 
poor girl such a bitter pang to procure. The lit- 


A Modern Evil 


23 


tie that would have meant life and hope to that 
destitute family went to purchase rum with which 
to regale several kindred spirits, all as wealthy 
and soulless as himself. 

When Eloise came out of the supply house, 
where Jack had always run an account, she was 
perfectly penniless. She told the obliging clerk to 
send her purchases to her, and turned her face 
homeward. It was quite a mile now, and a 
dreary October rain was falling. The street 
lamps were lighted — night was coming on. Baby 
had fallen asleep, and Eloise wrapped her cape 
closer around him and hurried on. A small boy 
ran down the opposite sidewalk, shrilly crying the 
Evening Journal. A garrulous old parrot on the 
corner mocked him. On turning an abrupt 
comer she passed an organ grinder — a weather- 
beaten old man whose hair was snowy white, and 
the placard which hung from his neck said that he 
was blind and importuned help. The girl looked 
at him a moment mournfully, wishing that she 
could help him, and hurried on. A gamin gazed 
curiously up into her face. She felt weak and 
faint. Then she remembered that she had not 
broken her fast since the night before. She won- 
dered she had not broken down sooner; but sus- 
pense and anxiety had supported her. She paused 
for a moment beneath a flaring street lamp, lean- 
ing heavily against it. Just then the curious 
bootblack who had passed the mornent before 
came up to her. 

“Miss,” he said, “you look sick. Let me carry 
the kid for you.” 

With an effort she roused herself. “Yes, I be- 


24 


A Modern Evil 


lieve I am ill. I shall be very thankful if you will 
carry baby for me awhile,” she said, laying the 
sleeping child into the outstretched arms of the 
little urchin. “Is he not too heavy for you ?” 

“Oh, no mum !” he replied reassuringly, as he 
trudged onward a few feet ahead of her; his 
small, soiled satchel containing his brush and 
blacking suspended from his shoulder. Eloise 
noted how rough his little bare feet were, and 
how ragged his coat and cap. But he had a 
heart ! And, after all, is it not those who have 
suffered most who feel most for those who suffer ? 
At the gate she took the baby. 

“Won’t you go in?” she asked, as the little fel- 
low opened the gate for her. “I can’t thank you 
sufficiently for your kindness. Perhaps some day 
I may have an opportunity to return the favor. 
What is your name?” 

“My name is Fred Howard,” he said politely, 
touching the tattered cap, “and I live in Jact 
son’s Alley. Don’t thank me, mum. I allers 
helps folks when I can.” 

And the little fellow touched his cap again, and 
disappeared in the fast gathering darkness. 

5k * * * 5k 

That night Eloise lay down feeling that she 
had done her whole duty. By her noble sacrifice 
Jack and little Hugh were not hungry, and there 
was enough food to last them for several days. 
She slept soundly, but was awakened by baby’s 
crying. His little hands were burning hot. All 
the next day he lay in a stupor. Jack, in his 
anxiety, forgot his own weakness and tried to 
help himself. Eloise constantly held Hugh in her 


A Modern Evil 


25 


lap. She wished the doctor would come. She 
did not like that dazed, unreal expression in 
baby’s eyes. 

“Do you think he is seriously ill, Eloise?” Jack 
asked, bending over the flushed face of his little 
brother. The girl’s voice choked, and two tears 
fell upon the nervous little hands of the sick 
child. 

“I don’t know. Jack. I’m afraid he is,” she 
faltered. “I don’t believe he knows me.” 

When Dr. Downs had felt the fitful little pulse 
he shook his head gravely. The blood receded 
from the girl’s heart, and she turned the color 
of ashes. 

“Don’t speak,” she implored. “You needn’t 
tell me. Oh, God, not that — not that !” 

Mrs. Maxcy took the little sufferer from the 
stricken sister’s arms. And Eloise went blindly 
from the room. The doctor turned to Mrs. 
Maxcy. 

“ We can do nothing. He has congestion, and 
all such cases terminate fatally. He will die about 
dark, I think. Keep him quiet, and afterward try 
to console his sister. Poor child ! I have never 
seen such devotion !” 

Jack had left the room too — a stricken, pathetic 
look on his face. Something in that set little face 
told him that Hugh was leaving them. In a few 
moments the doctor stepped softly across the hall 
to where Eloise was lying face downward on an 
old sofa. As he approached her she raised her 
tearless eyes questioningly to his. 

“I am going now,” he said. “He is dying, and 


26 


A Modern Evil 


I can do nothing. You will need someone. Whom 
shall I send to you?” 

“There is no one to send,” she answered, sadly 
enough. 

“What !” he exclaimed in considerable surprise. 
“Have you no friends here?” 

Then as she shook her head, “You must have 
someone. But don’t worry. I will see that you 
have company. Try to think it is for the best,” 
he went on, with an attempt at consolation. 
“Some day, when you have lived as long as I 
have, you may be able to recall this bitter hour 
with resignation, aye — even with gratitude, for 
he will be forever beyond life’s pitfalls then; 
while had he lived to be a man and then have 
been called away unexpectedly you could not be 
sure as you now are, what his future portion 
would be. Think of that!” 

She turned away from him. How empty such 
consolation can seem, though offered in all sin- 
cerity, when we hear it by the death-bed of a 
loved one! 

After he had gone she opened the front door 
and went slowly out. She did not notice a car- 
riage drawn up before the gate. After a moment 
she found Jack seated on the back steps. He was 
weeping bitterly. She sat down beside him and 
twined one arm affectionately around his neck. 

“Eloise, he is dying!” he sobbed brokenly, as 
her loving touch added the finis to his already 
overcharged heart. 

“He is almost gone.” 

“I know it. Jack,” she said, and then she, too. 


A Modern Evil 27 

wept; her terrible rigidity gave way at last, and 
a flood of tears relieved her burdened heart. 

Thank God for tears! The dam that has 
an outlet seldom breaks ; and tears which 
give vent to the heart’s emotions often save it 
from breaking. The stars came out one by one, 
and still they sat there; his face buried in his 
hands — her arms around his neck. Someone 
came up and took one of their hands in each of 
hers, and pressed them in sympathy. Then Ada 
Dalton spoke: 

“Eloise? Jack? What can I say to you?” 
she went on, her voice choked. “Why didn’t you 
let me know ? I came as soon as I heard it. We 
only arrived to-day.” 

They were silent for a moment. Presently 
someone came around the house and laid a hand 
on Eloise’s shoulder. “Come inside, dear; he is 
gone. But, oh 1 he looks so serene — so happy ! It 
is a sin to grieve for one who looks like that.” 

It was Mrs. Van Worth. 


k- 


A Modern Evil 


2S 


CHAPTER III. 

A CHANGE OF FORTUNE. 

Time passed. It was mid- winter. Eloise and 
Jack went on their ways as usual. Fortune had 
smiled upon Eloise, or at least she liked to con- 
sider it such. She had been engaged as reporter 
for the Journal, a daily paper, at a salary of fif- 
teen dollars a month, and which, though small, 
formed a very welcome addition to Jack’s some- 
what meagre salary. She loved the work, and de- 
voted most of her time to it, for alas ! she had 
plenty of time now ! Jack had received a letter 
from his grandfather saying if he would come 
and live with him until his death he would make 
him his sole heir. At first the proposition stag- 
gered the boy. Then he thought of his sister 
and decided he would not leave her. No wealth 
could make him give her up. 

“Go, dear, by all means,” said she, after read- 
ing the letter, though her heart ached. “It is 
your duty, and your one chance of wealth. I have 
no rich relatives to endow me, you know ; and 
you can do more for both of us by accepting his 
proposition than you can ever hope to do by re- 
jecting it,” she urged, while her soul cried out 
against the cruel separation which this acceptance 
would necessarily demand. So Jack resigned his 


A Modern Evil 


29 


place at the office, and bidding his sister a fond 
farewell, set out upon his journey. Eloise was 
very lonely then, though she heard from Zida 
constantly. She congratulated her upon her suc- 
cess as a journalist, for Mrs. Van Worth had 
sent her several copies of the Journal, and in them 
she had read Eloise’s society notes, and they were 
splendidly done and showed remarkable ability 
for one so young. Then Ada came often as of 
yore, and Eloise often returned her visits. In her 
new field of labor Eloise was admitted into circles 
which otherwise she would not have been, and 
many a susceptible young man lost his heart to 
the beautiful, high-browed girl as she appeared 
at every social function in her role as reporter 
and quietly looked on and jotted down what was 
passing before her. One night at a german Eloise 
was present as usual. She was standing just in- 
side the entrance, book and pencil in hand. She 
was looking unusually pretty. At the other end 
of the hall two young men stood lazily discussing 
the appearance of our young heroine. One was 
tall and fair ; both were aristocratic looking. The 
other was dark — black mustache, and hair and 
eyes of a peculiar penetrating black. His easy 
bearing and perfect manners proclaimed him of 
the beau monde. Once Eloise glanced in their 
direction, and a faint flush suffused her fair face 
as she met the burning regard of the darker man 
fixed upon her face. The other she recognized as 
Earle Nevarro. He was looking at her very in- 
tently, and tugging at his mustache. But when 
her eyes met his he averted his face slightly. Not 
so with Ballette. There was a look of challenge 


30 


A Modern Evil 


in his eyes ; their very look were an insult. 
Eloise did not look in that direction again. 

“Who is she, Nevarro?” the dark man was say- 
ing, * ‘Isn’t she a beauty, though ?” 

“Fine little girl,” returned the other quietly. 
“Fve seen her before somewhere.” The other 
suddenly stood erect. 

“Then do introduce me, old man, won’t you ?” 

“That I cannot do,” said Nevarro, “for I have 
never met her myself. I said I had seen her 
somewhere.” 

“Well, she’s a little daisy, no mistake about 
that; and I’ll wager a fellow could have a big 
time with her, you know. The bad part of it is 
that these stunningly pretty ones are always be- 
yond our reach. It’s a shame so pretty a little 
creature should have to scratch for a living like 
that.” 

Eloise turned, for someone had touched her 
arm. It was Ada. 

“Why, Eloise,” she said, smiling, “you here? 
Why don’t you dance? When have you heard 
from Jack? Is he well? See how smitten my 
fellow is on you! I’m positively jealous!” 

The next moment she was whirling around in 
the dark young man’s arms. Eloise watched her. 
His face was bent over hers; his eyes looked 
down into her own ; he said something to her — 
she smiled, blushed furiously and smiling hap- 
pily, lowered her eyes. Eloise looked across at 
Nevarro. He was standing where Ballette had 
left him; his eyes were follo;^ing them every- 
where. A peculiarly rigid expression was on his 


A Modern Evil 


31 

handsome well-bred face. As the dance was 
ending Eloise slipped away. 

“There,” Ballette said, after returning, flushed 
and excited from the waltz. “Where is she? 
Gone? Too bad! I was in hopes that she 
would drop her handkerchief or book or some- 
thing, so I could pick them up for her, and have 
the pleasure of hearing her say ‘thank you," if 
no more. Strange, isn’t it, such things never 
occur outside of novels?” 

That night Eloise could not sleep. Before her 
mind’s eye there passed the scene she had just 
witnessed. She remembered what Ada had told 
her a year ago. She had said that Earle would 
be jealous if he knew of her receiving the at- 
tentions of Ballette. But it was not jealousy she 
had seen depicted on Nevarro’s face. It might 
have been regret or fear, but never jealousy. 
Eloise wondered how she could be insensible to 
Earle’s attentions. He seemed so much quieter, 
so much more like true metal. 

It was now Spring, and everything seemed to 
herald the approach of Queen Summer. The 
trees bordering the avenue were beginning to 
put forth their leaves ; the birds warbled blithely 
in the small hedge behind the garden on South 
Street. Eloise had been very successful, and re- 
ceived a much increased salary. Jack had writ- 
ten begging her to give her work up, saying that 
he would send her enough money to enable her 
to be idle; and that if she still persisted he 
should come home. So at last, after much de- 
liberation, and after receiving several threaten- 


32 


A Modern Evil 


ing letters from Jack, the girl, a trifle regret- 
fully, perhaps, went to the Journal office and 
turned in her work for the last time. The 
editor offered her another raise in salary, but she 
declined, saying that she was going to eschew 
journalism altogether. She had met Ballette 
one evening in the office. He had been stand- 
ing with one of the Journal reporters con- 
versing, and who had very presumptuously pre- 
sented his friend. The girl resented this im- 
promptu meeting ; for though she was young and 
poor, she had the principles of a lady. Several 
times he had accosted her on the street, and had 
attempted a conversation; but she treated him 
as a stranger. He was persistent, however, and 
was not as lightly shaken off as the girl had 
imagined, for he had set his heart upon — no, not 
upon marrying her, for men of his stamp seldom 
marry. Eloise was only sixteen, and girls of that 
age are apt to find loneliness monotonous. So 
at last, against her better judgment, she allowed 
him to call. Why if he was not honorable, she 
reasoned with her accusing conscience, did so- 
ciety not ostracize him from its circles? And 
why did Ada Dalton receive him at her home? 
She learned to love and trust him for a girl of 
her age unless very liberally educated, is apt to 
think her lover pure, as she herself is pure ; and 
it was a bitter awakening to poor Eloise when 
a few months later she learned of his perfidy — 
his evil intentions toward herself. 

“So that is your motive for seeking me, is it ?” 
she said one night as she stood pale and trem- 
bling with anger before him. “So you have de- 


1 


A Modern Evil 


33 


ceived me! You have flattered and made love 
to me all this time with this end in view ! I wish 
to heaven that every mother in this town knew 
of what you are — you scheming villain! I wish 
they could see you in your true light as I see 
you now ; trying to destroy a poor girl who has 
no one to protect her. I wish they all knew 
what I now know of you! Leave me! Never 
dare speak to me again!’' 

When he had gone she ran blindly up the 
stairs to her room, and flinging herself down on 
her bed burst into tears. The strain she had un- 
dergone had been too much. 


34 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER IV. 

A HAPPY REUNION. 

One day as she came in from a trip down- 
town her eyes suddenly fell upon a letter on the 
dressing case before her. It was addressed to 
her, and bore the city postmark. Hurriedly 
tearing it open she read : 

“Dear Eloise: — Serrell and I are at home on 
a short vacation. We will call around to see you 
this afternoon. Have just discovered where you 
are. Eida.” 

A flood of mingled sensations surged over 
her. She was glad they were coming; yet she 
dreaded to meet Serrell, for she had an idea that 
she had treated him rather shabbily. He had 
written her twice, but she had not replied. Then 
at Christmas he had sent her a new book and a 
box of delicious bonbons. This she had been 
good enough to acknowledge. Since September 
he had been attending a school of law in Vir- 
ginia. Eloise donned her prettiest dress in 
honor of the expected guests; and while she 
waited she busied herself in putting finishing 
touches to her room. She had but little to do 
now, so she read and wrote a great deal ; before 
Jack left he had found her a very comfortable 
boarding place with a good motherly woman just 


A Modern Evil 


35 


outside of the city limits, and Eloise could roam 
the beautiful flower garden and extensive, well 
kept grounds at will. It took her sometime to 
grow accustomed to the life of ease which was 
her portion now, and she was somewhat re- 
luctant to leave South Street and Mrs. Maxcy; 
but Jack had insisted, and Jack’s word was law 
with Eloise. So the day before he left she had 
been comfortably installed in her new home. 
She promised to see Mrs. Maxcy once in awhile, 
and after presenting her with a small amount of 
currency, left her standing in the doorway, ever 
and anon raising her apron suggestively to her 
eyes. 

An hour later Zida and Serrell came. They 
did not stay long, however, for Zida announced 
that they had come to carry Eloise home with 
them — Lillian Nevarro was at home and she 
wanted Eloise to meet her. At last she gave a 
reluctant consent. They were shown into the 
Van Worth drawing-room, and a fair young 
girl who was sitting at the piano rose to greet 
them. She murmured something about being 
pleased to meet Eloise, but her manner was very 
forbidding. Her eyes — a pale blue — ^had that 
languorous expression one so often sees in girls 
of her position. Her hair was a light straw 
color, and she was white to paleness. Mrs. 
Nevarro had never encouraged her daughter’s 
indulging in gymnastics or other health-giving 
exercises. She was dressed in the height of 
fashion. During the conversation which fol- 
lowed she addressed as few remarks to our 
friend as ppssible, and ignored her as nearly as 


A Modern Evil 


36 

is in any way consistent with good breeding. 
Eloise was quick to notice this, but she appeared 
quite indifferent. Zida had changed but little 
since Eloise had first known her. She was just 
as pretty as ever, and had as great a fondness 
for bonbons and matinees ; and the same charm- 
ing disregard for modern etiquette as of yore. 
Her dresses were slightly lengthened, which 
fact succeeded in giving her a more womanly 
aspect. Serrell had changed but slightly, too, 
but his face was graver than of old. He always 
seemed preoccupied, a habit which Eloise ad- 
mired immensely. He conversed very little, but 
w xen he did speak, his words usually conveyed 
to his hearers some profound thought ; some idea 
worth considering. Mrs. Van Worth had ex- 
cused herself and left the room for a moment, 
and Serrell had asked Zida to play. It was evi- 
dent that he had noticed Miss Lillian’s freezing 
civility toward Eloise, and resented it. Zida had 
pleaded an excuse, and so it devolved upon Lil- 
lian to turn her musical talents to some account. 

“Why did you not answer my letters?” he 
asked, as Lillian began playing the newest two- 
step. 

“Didn’t I?” she asked, while the hateful color 
mantled cheek and brow. She kept her eyes bent 
upon the carpet. She wondered if he would 
blame her much if he knew all she had passed 
through since they were together last. She had 
not thought very much about her neglect when 
alone; but now, with his deep, searching eyes 
upon her, she felt that she had been exceedingly 
unkind, and that he was reading her very soul. 


A Modern Evil 


37 


Her face was a little flushed as she looked up 
into his eyes. ‘‘Didn’t I? I think you are mis- 
taken.” 

“I’m afraid not,” he says decidedly, but with 
a slight smile as he read her embarrassment. 
“Perhaps the mails were at fault. I think you 
might have written occasionally. It is hard to 
feel one’s self forgotten.” The girl’s face grew 
a shade paler. 

“If I did not,” she said, “I think I am to be 
excused. I have experienced a great sorrow 
since I last saw you.” 

She looked at him now, and her eyes were 
bright with unshed tears. 

“Yes; you don’t know how deeply I sympa- 
thized with you,” he said earnestly. “Aunt 
Anna wrote me of your misfortune, and I wrote 
you a letter of condolence. After that I sent you 
another. I waited a long time for an answer, 
but none ever came.” 

Just then Mrs. Van Worth entered the room, 
and Serrell colored slightly. Mrs. Van fancied 
that Eloise looked slightly conscious, too. 

“Do you hear from your brother often, Miss 
Venarez?” she questions quite amiably, sinking 
into an easy chair. 

“I hear every week. I don’t think I could en- 
dure his absence if I did not.” 

“Yes, I know you miss him. When is he 
coming home?” 

Eloise replied that she did not know exactly; 
but just as soon as he could finish his business 
out there. 

Suddenly Zida spoke: “You have stopped 


38 


A Modern Evil 


writing for the papers, haven’t you, Eloise? I 
never see any of your articles now.” 

“Yes,” the other said. “I’m not writing now.” 

Zida regarded her a moment, smiling slightly. 

“I used to enjoy your letters so much. Mamma 
sent me a paper every week ; and it always made 
me more homesick than ever when I read your 
society items. You should make writing a pro- 
fession, Eloise. I think you have great talent.” 

“I once thought so, too,” replied Eloise sadly, 
“but I couldn’t get the publishers to agree with 
me. They refused two of my best literary ef- 
forts, which almost destroyed my ambition.” 


A Modern Evil 


39 


CHAPTER V. 

AFTER LONG YEARS. 

Four years have passed swiftly since we last 
looked into the small, tidy room of our heroine. 
She is still where we left her, though she is not 
quite the same. She has changed and developed 
wonderfully. Her figure was the envy of every 
\voman whom she met, and the admiration of 
every man. She carried herself like a young 
princess, and her face was charming. One glance 
at her figure and profile and we would say that 
she did not resemble herself ; but when she raises 
her eyes we see that they have not changed — 
they are still soft and appealing and childish, and 
are her most beautiful feature. Zida and her 
cousin, Lillian Nevarro, were at home now. So 
also were Earle Nevarro and Serrell Levare. 
They had finished their education, and the for- 
mer had been travelling about until a month pre- 
vious. Society had experienced a sudden re- 
vival then, for Nevarro had always been one of 
the Frivolous Dame's favorites. Serrell had fin- 
ished his course of law and had been admitted 
to the bar. Ada Dalton had been gone from 
home for three months, visiting distant relatives. 
Several times when she and Eloise had been to- 
gether she had been almost persuaded to tell her 


40 


A Modern Evil 


of her knowledge of Ballette's character, and to 
warn her; but a false idea of modesty had pre- 
vented her. She did not wish Ada to know that 
she had ever known him, for in all their visits 
Ada had never mentioned his going to see her. 
Perhaps he had kept his visits a secret from her. 
Zida and Lillian were “coming out” soon ; but as 
for that they had been “out” all their lives. Jack 
Venarez had come home twice during the first 
two years of his absence ; but his grandfather had 
managed to get his affairs into a financial tangle, 
and as a result he had not been home for two 
years. Eloise shed many tears over this un- 
avoidable state of affairs, which she was wont 
to term neglect ; for though he wrote every 
week it did not compensate her for his absence. 
She had his picture in her hand to-night, as she 
sat there alone, and she found it almost impos- 
sible to identify this great, well developed young 
man with his fashionable appearance as the same 
dear old Jack of South Street. She put the pic- 
ture away in her trunk, and drying her eyes she 
went back to her seat near the window and 
looked out. A closed carriage drove up to the 
door and stopped. She wondered who it could 
be at that late hour. While she stood watching a 
young man sprang to the ground, and ran up 
the steps and loudly clanged the door bell. Eloise 
listened. The door was qpened a second later, 
and she heard the newcomer address a few words 
to the landlady. That voice ! No wonder 
Eloise turned from the window, her heart in her 
throat at the sound of it ! She stood expectant — 
waiting. Somebody was coming upstairs three 


A Modern Evil 


41 


steps at a time. Then suddenly they paused be- 
fore her door and knocked. The girl advanced 
quickly across the room and opened the door. 

“Eloise, old girl, how are you?’' cried her 
brother delightedly, and Eloise found herself in 
her brother’s arms. 

“I’m so glad you have come. Jack! What 
must I say?” 

“Say nothing, you little goose. Why don’t you 
faint? I’d feel better, I think.” 

He sat down upon a nearby chair and drew her 
onto his knee. 

“Don’t cry, old girl,” he says. “If you’re glad 
to see me that’s a poor way you have of showing 
it,” he goes on with characteristic drollery, “and 
I’ve so much to tell you, and to ask you, too. 
In the first place that accommodating paternal 
grandparent of mine took it into his wise old 
head to be especially obliging to me a week ago, 
and so Thursday morning when he failed to 
make his appearance at the usual hour I went to 
his room to ascertain the cause, and found some- 
what to mine and the old lady’s surprise that 
he had passed in his checks sometime during the 
small hours of the night. Well, he had already 
made a will in my favor, and so we buried him 
last Saturday, and I’m to receive two thousand 
annually until the old woman makes up her mind 
to follow his example. I really intended to wire 
you, Eloise, but I was so busy and so helped up 
with the idea of seeing you so soon that I forgot 
it. Then, too, I wanted to surprise you. In 
spite of all they have been kind to me, though 
I’ll admit it has been a long time in coming. 


42 


A Modern Evil 


They almost ate me up at first, but finally de- 
cided that there was too much of me to dispose 
of in that way. Now I must go back once more 
for a few days to straighten things up a bit for 
the old lady, and then I’ll be with you after 
that like ‘Johnson’s yaller cat’ — to stay. The 
old woman is going to sell out and to spend the 
remainder of her days with relatives, which is 
kind, I take it, as had she remained at home she 
would have wanted me to stay with her. Of 
course I was sorry to see the old man go,” he 
said, “and I’m not ungrateful, either. I’d be a 
brute if I should repay all their many kind- 
nesses with ingratitude. I grew to care for them 
quite as much as they did for me, and if at any 
time the dear old woman needs me I’ve told her 
that one line from her to that effect will bring 
me to her if I’m at the other end of the world.” 

“Ah! That is quite right, old boy,” his sister 
said warmly. “That is the way I like to hear 
you talk. Fortune has been kind to us, though, 
as you say, it has been long in coming. We can 
still appreciate it. I’m so glad for your sake. 
Jack, and for my own, too, for if I never sell my 
stories now we will be able to hold our own.” 

“Yes,” he said somewhat sadly, while he gazed 
meditatively into space; “so we can. It is cer- 
tainly a lift for us ; but we could have enjoyed it 
so much more had it come five years sooner.” 

“Yes, dear,” his sister said gently, “there is 
always an ‘if’ between us and perfect happiness. 
I have often noticed it.” 

Then fearful lest he should make this first 
meeting one of sadness he said suddenly: 


A Modern Evil 


43 


see you are not married yet. Are these fel- 
lows afflicted with blindness? Or have you de- 
cided to remain an old maid?” 

The girl smiled. “Tell me something of your- 
self, Jack,” she said. 

“I?” he answers, somewhat surprised and stif- 
ling a yawn. “I shall never marry. I could not 
for the life of me make a selection. There is no 
woman so pure but there are others just as much 
so — none so beautiful but there are many just as 
beautiful. I could never tie myself to any one 
woman. Might see another I liked better, you 
know, when it was too late, and be miserable as 
hell ; for I imagine that that would be the double- 
distilled quintessence of supreme torture. If 
there was but one woman in the world, and she 
was pretty, I might think of it. That she should 
be good to look at would be an immutable con- 
dition, however; for I could never love a plain 
woman. A man does not like to be an object of 
pity, and IVe seen men with such positively ugly 
wives that I actually pitied them. I could over- 
look a good many faults in a woman if she were 
only pretty.” 

“There are other things to consider,” Eloise 
ventures. “Her being beautiful could never 
atone for a lack of congeniality, I think.” 

“Oh, well,” Jack goes on ; “in case a man does 
sometimes get one not intended for him, the law 
has made a merciful allowance for that mistake 
in granting divorces. They’ve grown to be about 
as popular as marriages. That is — in some 
states. Talk about your modem evils! But 
that is the great social problem which confronts 


44 


A Modern Evil 


us to-day, and for all it is being much discussed 
it does not receive near the consideration which 
it merits, and there seems to be no ready solution 
for this most vital and important question. We 
can boast mightily of taking the divine law as 
laid down in Holy Writ for our guidance here 
below, but when it comes as a barrier between 
man and his desires he usually makes the law 
a tool subservient to his will ; for at best, we are 
selfish creatures all. But divorce and marriage 
aside, how are all the Van Worths? And are 
you as much attached to Mrs. Van as ever?” 

He laughed, regarding Eloise for a moment 
curiously. 

“Yes, we are on very good terms now. They 
are very nice to me. Zida is as she always has 
been; the dearest little girl in the world. She 
is awfully good to me.” 

Jack looked at her with a latent twinkle in his 
blue eyes. 

“And what of Levare ?” 

“Oh, he is good, too,” she said, laughing. “He 
asked me a lot about you.” 

“Does Ada still live at her old home ?” 

“Yes, but she has been off at school almost 
ever since you have been gone.” 

And so they chatted until the town clock an- 
nounced the hour of midnight, and Jack took his 
departure. 

SK SH sj! ^ :<e 

Eloise was working away desperately at her 
book, despite her brother’s warning that nothing 
but failure awaited her in that direction. She 
was on the last chapter now, and she felt very 


A Modern Evil 


45 


hopeful, for she had taken infinite pains with her 
work, and she was sure that it contained merit, 
and she hoped that that quality could not always 
be ignored, even in an amateur; for how could 
she ever hope to become anything else if she was 
never given an opportunity of showing to the 
world that she had talent in that particular di- 
rection? She would have liked for a competent 
judge of literature to have read her book, and to 
have had the advantage of their opinion re- 
garding its merits; but she was very proud, and 
if she failed in this, as in others, she was deter- 
mined that none but herself and Jack should 
know of her disappointment. She concluded and 
sent it off. Shortly after Jack came into her 
room. 

“Come downstairs, old girl,’' he said, “Levare 
is in the sitting-room, and, of course, he came 
to see you.” 

“I really do not think I can go. Jack,” she said. 
“I’m afraid that I’m going to be ill. I have such 
a headache. Can’t you plead an excuse for 
me ?” 

Jack looked at her a moment. “I wonder 
what you women would do if it was prohibited 
that you have headaches? Have heartaches, I 
fancy.” 

“Yes,” she said, as he turned away ; “we have 
that, too, sometimes.” 

She wondered if Levare would be disappointed. 
She should have gone, she mused. 

When Jack again returned to her room after 
Levare had taken his departure he found her 
almost unconscious, with a wild light in her beau- 


46 


A Modern Evil 


tiful eyes — a hot flush on her fair face. When a 
few moments later a physician was summoned 
he said she had a threatened attack of brain 
fever and she must be kept from all noise and ex- 
citement. Poor Eloise ! She had a serious time 
for three weeks and her constant application to 
her last book had nearly cost her her life. She 
lay in her little iron bed drawn up close to the 
window so the June breeze might fan her fev- 
ered cheeks. 

Zida came every day and brought her flowers. 
Her talk was light and frothy and seemed to re- 
vive Eloise. The doctor told her to continue 
coming; her visits seemed to do his patient more 
good than all the medicine he gave her. Upon 
several occasions Miss Lillian had come, too ; and 
our heroine found her dislike for that young 
lady diminishing somewhat. 

A few mornings later Jack came into her room 
and taking a seat near the bed, drew forth a let- 
ter from his pocket. 

“Here is something for you,’’ he said, “though 
I don’t know whether I should have mentioned it 
just yet. Will you promise to take its contents 
logically, no matter what it is? You know the 
doctor said that worry would be very bad for 
you. It is concerning your book, I think. What 
if they do refuse to take it? You are not de- 
pendent upon your writing now.” 

Why should she care, sure enough? she ques- 
tioned. Then she thought of the hopes she had 
based upon her work — upon that very book, and 
her heart beat with sickening dread. 


A Modern Evil 47 

“I will act rationally, Jack,’' she said at last. 
“You need have no fear.” 

She drew the letter forth with nervous fingers. 
“Miss Venarez: (it ran) We have accepted your 
story, and can make you the following offer ” 

But she read no further. The letter fell from 
her nerveless hand. She stole one thin arm 
around her brother’s neck, while the tears rained 
down her pale cheeks; tears of gratitude; tears 
of remorse — remorse that she had ever doubted 
the goodness of Providence. 

“It is over. Jack,” she said, drawing his head 
down to her own. “Thank God it is over! The 
way has been bitterly hard and dark, but the 
sun has come out at last.” 

“Yes, Eloise,” he said tenderly, “such patience 
as yours must be rewarded. Be of good cheer, 
little woman. You will yet live to make your 
mark in the world.” 

Twilight fell softly, enveloping them in its 
dark mantle. A small spotted kitten which had 
been rubbing itself affectionately around the bed- 
post gave a peculiar, supplicating whine and 
sprang upon the bed, and coiling itself comfort- 
ably against the sick girl, purred contentedly. 

Jack put his sister gently down on her pillows 
again. 

“Just as soon as you are better,” he said, “I 
want you to go with me and see the pretty home 
I’ve bought for us a few blocks from Zida’s 
home. I know you will be pleased, Eloise. The 
location is beautiful. I have had this in mind 
ever since I left you four years ago. I have 
engaged Mrs. Maxcy to be housekeeper for you.” 


48 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER VL 

SUCCESS ! 

“Toil on, sad heart, courageously. 

And thou shalt find thy dream to be 
A noonday light and truth to thee/" 

— Selected. 

“One Woman’s Life” had been a great suc- 
cess, and our heroine was now no longer obscure, 
for in spite of her nom-de-phime Eloise had been 
discovered and letters of congratulation poured 
in upon her. She had been presented with a 
dozen copies of her book — a kindness of her 
publishers — and she was delighted. She had re- 
membered Zida and Miss Lillian with a compli- 
mentary copy, and had received the most flatter- 
ing notes of praise from those young ladies. Her 
ambition had reached its goal at last. Jack, true 
to his promise, had taken her to the beautiful 
brown stone residence on East Street, in one of 
the most aristocratic portions of the city. “For,” 
said he, “I have learned from bitter experience 
that for one to become popular, and to be a suc- 
cess socially, one has got to live in a fashionable 
locality, and put on style and aflFect wealth 
whether one possesses it or not. There is also a 
certain degree of policy in patronizing only one 


A Modern Evil 


49 


church,” he continued one day to Eloise, *^and in 
paying in just as much for the privilege of be- 
longing to it as one can possibly spare.” 

Eloise had her Own servants, among which 
Mrs. Maxcy was chief. The woman was now 
about as happy as is permitted mortals to be here 
below, for she had always predicted a sudden rise 
in the fortune of her young mistress, and now 
that the prophecy had come true, the good wom- 
an felt that she was in a measure responsible 
for the turn affairs had taken, and showed it by 
adding to her other numerous graces a pro- 
nounced and very ungraceful switch, an accom- 
plishment which always convulsed Jack with 
laughter. Zida and Lillian had run in that morn- 
ing and found Eloise in the morning room, 
whither she had gone from breakfast. 

“Dear old girl, we’ve just come to congratu- 
late you in person,” Zida bubbled over, snatching 
the morning Sun from Eloise’s hands and tak- 
ing them in both of hers. “I’ve just finished the 
book and it is simply a treat. I wrote you the 
note when I had read it only half through — I 
was so pleased ; and now that I have finished it I 
have come to tell you what I think of it. Suffice 
it to say that I had no idea that we had such talent 
in this town; less still did I dream that I num- 
bered such a genius among my acquaintances; 
and to think it should be my old friend Eloise, 
who is the author of the most successful book 
on the market, and who is to be the social ‘lion’ of 
the season! The reviews are full of flattering 
accounts of it and it is in every one’s mouth. 
Really, Eloise, it is quite enough to turn your 


A Modern Evil 


SO 

head. I shouldn’t be surprised if you should 
'cut’ me altogether!” 

"I’m sorry that you think so lightly of me, 
dear,” Eloise answered, smiling a little in spite 
of herself. 

"To think you would go and hide yourself be- 
hind an assumed name! Thekla, indeed! And 
the crowning cheeky act was when Lillian and 
myself received an anonymous copy, and there’s 
no telling when we would have discovered your 
clever ruse if we had not happened to see an ac- 
count of it in one of the new magazines. Why, 
if I could write like that do you think I’d try 
to hide my identity ? I should think not ! There 
are a few pages which I cannot understand; 
they are too far-fetched, or something, what do 
you call it? Well, anyhow, outside of that it is 
heavenly! Serrell thinks the parts which I can- 
not understand are the finest of all. You should 
hear him talk about it, Eloise. It would do you 
good.” 

She sank down on a low stool at Eloise’s feet, 
and picking up the Sun, ran her eye over the 
locals. "I see here an announcement of Ada Dal- 
ton’s and Mr. Ballette’s marriage. Well they’ve 
decided upon it at last.” 

Eloise gave a quick sigh. She wondered if 
Ada would be happy with such a man. She was 
glad that he would marry her. She had not seen 
her in a long, long time. 

"And here,” continued Zida, "is an announce- 
ment of the ball — our ball. Just think of it! 
We’ve been trying on our dresses all the morn- 
ing, Eloise, and I assure you they are dreams — 


A Modern Evil 


51 


perfect dreams!” throwing her arms above her 
head in a most ungraceful yawn. ‘‘I feel stiff, 
just like a dress figure.” 

“My dear Zida,” Eloise says calmly, an amused 
smile dimpling her fair face, “you seem to be 
looking forward to it very much indeed.” 

“Why shouldn’t I? This is our ball, I’d have 
you understand ; given in our special honor. It’s 
only two weeks off, thank goodness ! I’m real 
jealous of you, Eloise. You as a new literary 
star will take the shine off Lillian and me.” 

The door opened quiety and Jack’s bushy head 
appeared. 

“Jack, I don’t believe you ever met Lillian, 
Miss Nevarro?” 

The young man bowed. “No, and I had quite 
arrived at the conclusion that I never should, un- 
less I took the trouble to introduce myself.” 

“I’m sure I had forgotten all formality,” Zida 
said. “I’m so engrossed in the coming event. 
Do excuse me.” 

“We came,” Miss Lillian said slowly, “espe- 
cially to see and congratulate your sister on her 
new book. It is splendid.” 

“Don’t you think it a shame. Jack,” Zida said, 
with a reproachful glance at Eloise, “that she 
should hide it all from us?” 

“Do you really think, Eloise,” Lillian drawled, 
raising her languid blue eyes to those of her 
friend, “that it is possible for a woman to under- 
go all that ‘Ruth’ did and still be as pure as 
she?” 

“Most assuredly I do, Lillian,” Eloise replies, 
fixing her dark eyes on the carpet. The small 


52 


A Modern Evil 


marble and geld clock chimed eleven; its light, 
silvery strokes echoing like soft music through 
the room. Suddenly Eloise looked off through 
the long French window, through which the mag- 
nolia-scented breeze stole in deliciously. Her 
eyes were unusually sad as she spoke. 

"‘I knew a girl once who led just such a life, 
and who came out victorious in the end. Virtue 
is its own reward, you know.” 

There was a slight pause, broken only by the 
musical ticking of the little clock. Eloise spoke 
again. 

"‘The reason I sought to conceal my identity,” 
she said, looking at Zida, “is because I have 
found that for one to write a popular book now- 
adays, it must contain some striking points good 
or otherwise. This is a degenerate age, and the 
public clamor for something new — something 
sensational, and to me it is very humiliating to be 
known as the author of such a book. We writers 
are to be pitied ; we cannot please ourselves as to 
what we write; we try to suit the public taste, 
and it is a difficult task.” 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Zida said. “I think 
I’d run the risk, though, for the Tep,’ even though 
it were a little bad. I’m perfectly desperate, 
Eloise ; I can’t create a sensation in anyway. I 
think I shall go to smoking cigarettes, wearing 
bloomers, and riding astride. Perhaps that will 
attract attention.” 

She consulted her small jeweled time-piece, 
and rising, said: 

“We must go Lill; it’s nearly twelve. Come 
down this afternoon, Eloise,” as she ran lightly 


A Modern Evil 


S3 


down the steps, and without waiting for Jack to 
assist her, sprang into the carriage, and Miss 
Lillian took her seat beside her. Zida leaned for- 
ward : “Of course. Til expect you too,” she called 
shrilly. “Bring your wheel. I’ve a new one, 
and ril wager I can beat you in a race.” 

She touched up the spirited animal and dashed 
off down the street, leaving our friend Jack stand- 
ing with the hot sun pouring down on his bare 
head. 

“What a stunner !” he ejaculated, as he turned 
and walked slowly up the walk. “What a little 
vixen ! Pretty though ; no mistake about that ; 
looks like a fashionably dressed French doll !” 

He walked through the hall and into the draw- 
ing-room, where his sister had gone. 

“Miss Lillian makes me cold ; she looks like an 
iceberg,” he said, drawing himself together in a 
vain attempt to shiver. I feel like shaking her to 
make the blood circulate — to wake her up. The 
other,” he went on, dropping into a huge rocker, 
and crossing his legs, “if she isn’t a twentieth cen- 
tury woman, then I’ve one yet to see !” 

“Yes,” said Eloise, going across to the long, 
low window and throwing open the blinds ; “she 
and you should get on famously. Jack. I believe 
your views are somewhat similar; and I assure 
you that behind that smiling, careless exterior 
there beats as warm a little heart as you could 
find anywhere.” 

“Yes,” he replied, vainly trying to twist an im- 
aginary mustache; “but it would be difficult to 
touch it, I think; like the possessor, too small, I 
imagine.” 


54 


A Modern Evil 


He suddenly looked up, speaking abruptly, 
“It’s a wonder to me that you two were ever 
friends. You are the last woman I should have 
thought would champion her cause, Eloise.” 

“Yes, and you are not alone in that. Jack,” she 
says, taking a seat near the window. “I am 
aware that Zida and I are vastly diflFerent in 
every way; but I have learned to appreciate in 
these days those who do not forget an old, and by 
no means necessary friendship, as she has done. 
Zida Van Worth is a mystery. She seems all 
frivolity, but behind all that lies dormant a very 
determined will, utterly impossible to break when 
once she sets her heart on a thing. She was very 
kind to me. Jack, in the old days, when my 
friends were few ; and now I wouldn’t give her 
up for anything.” 

“Give her up ? Why certainly not !” Jack said 
very emphatically. “I did not suggest that.” 

“I believe that Zida thinks I have a peculiar 
kind of influence over her some way. I know I 
love to study her. You know ‘extremes meet’.” 

Very charming Zida Van Worth looked that 
June evening as she drove in her pretty carriage, 
handling the reins like an expert. Her pretty 
gown of pale blue set off her perfect little figure 
and dainty complexion to perfection. Her blue 
sailor hat lay in her lap, and her red gold curls, 
parted and held in place by moonstone-studded 
side combs, curled over her compact head and 
small ears in utter abandon. Her tiny hands 
were incased in long, white chamois gloves, and 
she drove at a pace that made poor Lillian hold 


A Modern Evil 


55 

her breath, though she said nothing. She knew 
how futile it would be to remonstrate, as this 
small, headstrong cousin had her way in this as 
in everything else. Suddenly she slackened 
speed. 

'‘Isn’t he handsome, Lill?” she said, turning 
her brown eyes on her companion's face. “He’s 
just immense.” 

“He?” asks Miss Lillian calmly, opening her 
eyes. “Who?” 

“Why Jack Venarez, of course,” replied her 
companion; “what other ‘he’ have we seen to- 
day that amounts to anything?” 

“Oh!” said Miss Lillian, rousing herself with 
an effort. “Yes, he is rather good looking, I 
think ; only I don’t admire his style. I like digni- 
fied men. Why, did you notice how he bowed 
to me when you introduced us ? He just nodded, 
and began talking as he would have done to Earle 
or Serrell, or any other man.” 

“Oh, dignity!” the small maiden replied. 
“That’s the reason I like him — because he hasn’t 
any dignity. Why, he’s a perfect Apollo ! You 
see I’ve known Jack Venarez for years. He used 
to clerk for papa, or be a book-keeper or some- 
thing — I’ve forgotton what — and I used to run in 
every time I had a chance, and I just sailed right 
into him. Of course I had to be sharp about it, 
for papa has your old fogyish ideas Lillian, about 
propriety, and proper introductions, and all that 
rot. But he has sense, and he took the cue at 
once. I hate people you have to knock down 
with a hint before they can take it. He was 
always handsome, but I believe he gets more so 


A Modern Evil 


S6 

as he grows older. Did you notice what a pretty 
mouth he has? Really, I wouldn’t mind kissing 
him a bit, would you?” 

Miss Lillian bit her lip and winced. Her small 
cousin shocked her. 

“He’s my ideal of what a man should be,” 
goes on Zida, determined to air her opinion. “If 
I had anything to do with laws I’d have this 
clause inserted : All introductions to be thrown 
out totally; and should this law be violated the 
offender to pay not less than one thousand dol- 
lars, and not more than three ; or serve a term of 
two years in the penitentiary.” She laughed. 
“They are such a bore, and they make one feel 
so formal. I believe in making friends of every- 
body. Why should we young women be taught 
to regard men as bugbears? Of course during 
the conversation you might casually ask them 
who they were.” 

Miss Lillian laughed. 

“You see, if papa had known how I knew Jack 
he would have lectured me soundly. Nothing 
like being sharp, Lill. Take Serrell, for instance ; 
There’s your dignity! I feel like choking it out of 
him!” 

^ ^ 

That afternoon as Earle and his aunt, Mrs. 
Van Worth, were having a little chat on the ve- 
randa, Miss Lillian and Zida came in. 

“Where have you been to-day?” Earle asks. 
“I should have known, though, for mother told 
me I’d find you here, or at the Venarez’. Since 
they moved up this way you’ve been going there 
pretty often. What’s the attraction?” 


A Modern Evil 


57 

“There’s a mighty pretty girl for one thing,” 
Miss Lillian said. 

“And a regular heart-crushing boy for an- 
other,” said Zida, as she dropped into a chair. 

Earle smiled superciliously. “Quite enough, 
Fm sure,” he said. 

“You are not going to dress for dinner, girls ?” 
Mrs. Van Worth asked, arching her delicately 
marked brows. 

“No, mamma; do excuse us,” Zida said, go- 
ing over to her mother, and taking her hand — a 
pretty way she had that always won. I’m sure 
Earle will. We are so tired, and everything is 
excusable now, you know.” 

Whereupon they all went in to dinner. 

“Serrell is not coming home?” Zida asked 
after they had taken their seats. 

“No,” Mrs. Van answers. “I sent his dinner 
to the office. How tired and worn out you girls 
seem ! Right at the time you should be at your 
best; you will look like ghosts.” 

“Yes; won’t they?” Earle said, looking up 
from his soup. “Zida is losing all her color — 
her chief charm. As for Lillian, she has never 
had any to lose.” 

Mrs. Van was very proud of her daughter’s 
beauty, notwithstanding she worried secretly over 
her manners. 

“Poor papa!” Zida sighed compassionately; 
“He’s never at home. He and mamma will have 
to become acquainted after this fearful business 
crush is over. He comes home only once a day, 
at night, and then sometimes not until nearly mid- 
night — he’s so busy ; though I believe mamma at- 


A Modern Evil 


S8 

tributes it to other causes/’ with a mischievous 
glance in her mother’s direction. “I believe she 
has about arrived at the conclusion that he has 
become a confirmed club man in his old days.” 

Mrs. Van sighed. She was beginning to think 
herself an object of pity. 

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do if 
it wasn’t for Zida. It is so nice to think she is 
at home permanently. Mildred and I have had a 
lonely time of it for the past four years. Thank 
heaven it is over !” 

“It doesn’t seem likely that you will have that 
pleasure long, aunt,” Earle says, with a sidewise 
glance at Zida. “Judging from appearances 
Zida doesn’t intend entering that much dreaded 
state of spinsterhood.” 

Zida laughed — such a clear, ringing girl’s 
laugh. 

“Why no, my dear cousin, why should I? I’m 
sure worse looking chances than I are making 
right decent matches every day.” 

“Yes,” Nevarro went on, “a fellow doesn’t 
have to exert himself overmuch these days to 
possess a wife ; the women attend to that. That 
reminds me of Bulwer’s ‘Coming Race’ ; the very 
. laws of nature will be changed then, according to 
the author’s statement, and all the lovemaking 
will belong to the fair sex. I wish this genera- 
tion would adopt that idea.” 

“According to your views, it has,” his sister 
said, somewhat coldly. 

“I meant,” he returns with some embarrass- 
ment, “that the indications are tending in that 


A Modern Evil 59 

direction. The custom is not quite universal yet. 
It bids fair to become so, I think.'' 

They all arose, and Mrs. Van Worth led the 
way from the dining-room. Zida and Earle, how- 
ever, passed on through the room and out into 
the conservatory. They made a very pretty pic- 
ture, standing in the shade of a clump of mag- 
nolias — the great, golden bars of sunshine falling 
across their faces. Earle Nevarro was decidedly 
good looking. He had always shown a decided 
preference for Zida's society, and they had been 
mapped out as a very probable match. It had 
been a pet scheme with Mrs. Van Worth and 
Mrs, Nevarro to have them marry when they 
reached their majority, as a very easy way of 
solving the problem of keeping their respective 
fortunes undivided. 

“Zida," he was saying, as they stood there, 
and the sun's slanting rays fell across her hair 
like burnished gold, “I have traveled the world 
pretty well over, and I have yet to meet the girl 
I am as fond of as I am of you. I have cared 
for you ever since we used to play dolls together, 
and I’m conceited enough to believe that you 
are not altogether indifferent to me, are you ? ’ ’ 

“Why, certainly not, Earle,” she replied, while 
a puzzled expression crept into her brown eyes, 
and running her white fingers through her short, 
curly hair, “I like you first rate, to be sure. 
Why?" 

“I was thinking," he said, tugging in a manner 
somewhat perplexed at his heavy, fair mustache, 
“that we were both old enough to arrive at some 


6 o A Modern Evil 

kind of a decision concerning ourselves and our 
future.” 

“Yes,” she said, and the puzzled expression on 
her face deepened. 

“I want to ask you,” her companion went on, 
“if you think enough of me to be my wife.” 

“Oh!” she said, gaily; “that’s it, is it? Earle 
you startled me, and I can truthfully give utter- 
ance to the threadbare and much ridiculed ex- 
pression ‘this is so sudden !’ Who’d have thought 
that you were thinking of that ? This is too ridic- 
ulous !” and she began laughing immoderately. 

The young man colored painfully. 

“Does the knowledge that I care for you amuse 
you to that extent?” he says, in a hurt voice and 
looking her squarely in the eyes. 

“Yes, in that way it does,” she replied. Then 
she sobered somewhat. “I think you’d better be 
‘off with the old love’ first, you know. What 
caused Miss Dalton to give you the mitten, eh ?” 

“Let us not speak of her, Zida,” he said, with a 
ring of sadness and regret in his voice. “She 
couldn’t care for me, so that ends it. I care for 
you; that is what concerns us now.” 

But Zida jerked her pretty head back with a 
gesture of impatience. 

“Oh, no, Earle I I couldn’t think of marrying 
any man yet. We are both too young to think 
of that yet.” 

“I don’t mean now,” the young man said ; 
“but after awhile, when you become tired of so- 
ciety’s frivolities; don’t yon think you could be 
satisfied with me then?” 

“Oh, yes, perhaps,” she answered, evidently 


A Modern Evil 


6i 


bored. “After a long time when I am no longer 
young and have ceased to care for enjoyment; 
then we will be married.” 

A dark frown gathered on the young man^s 
face — a frown of displeasure. 

“No we won’t, either,” somewhat shortly. 
“After you are wearing a cap and spectacles 1 
won’t want you.” 

Zida burst out laughing. 

“My dear cousin you wear spectacles now, and 
a cap, too, sometimes.” 

Nevarro bit his lip. “It’s no joke with me. I 
mean every word I say,” he replied, evidently out 
of temper. “If you are ever going to marry me 
it must be within the next two years. You will 
be twenty then, and the woman who doesn’t know 
her mind at that age is a fool !” 

Zida stood for a moment thinking. 

“Well,” she said deliberately, “I will marry you 
at the expiration of two years upon certain con- 
ditions.” 

“Name the terms.” 

; “That if at the end of the specified time I have 
not seen anyone I like better, I will marry you.” 

1 “Well, it’s a bargain,” he said. “Let us seal it 
with a kiss.” 

And just as they were sealing it, Mrs. Van 
Worth came to the window. 

“Zida, you and Earle come inside. Lillian 
wants you to sing with her.” 

5|e * ★ 

It was a beautiful wedding. The bride looked 
so happy and so trusting, as though she were 
giving up everything, and considered it most ex- 


62 


A Modern Evil 


quisite bliss to do so. Everyone said the bride- 
groom was so handsome — so distinguished look- 
ing. Ada had begged Eloise to be first maid of 
honor, but the girl felt that she could not. She 
also pretended illness on the night of the wed- 
ding in order not to be thought rude; for she 
could not attend the reception given at Ada’s 
home. She could not come in contact with Bal- 
lette. He had managed to shun her; and Eloise 
regretted exceedingly that her dearest friend 
would be his wife. As far as her pure soul could 
detest anything, she detested Ballette. On the 
eve before Ada’s wedding she had gone to see 
her. It cost her a bitter pang to think that in the 
future they could not be so intimate ; she felt an 
ungovernable jealousy in giving her childhood’s 
friend up to this man. It did not seem like a mar- 
riage, but a sacrifice. They sat that evening in 
Ada’s room together, almost in silence, while the 
cool magnolia-scented breeze drifted in. At last 
she rose to go. 

“Do not love him too much, Ada,” she said, kiss- 
ing her. “Men are such fickle creatures ; so do not 
put all your eggs in one basket. Remember the 
old poem: ‘Love is of man’s life a thing apart.’ 
It is quite true, I believe. Unfortunately for us, 
we cannot do anything by halves; we must love 
with all our heart and soul, or not at all. It is 
our unhappy disposition. I remember hearing 
Mrs. Maxcy say once that it was a good idea to 
let your husband think that you are not wholly 
bound up in him ; try to let him love you as much 
as you do him.” 

Ada had kissed her fondly. 


A Modern Evil 


63 

“You dear, old incredulous thing. You are not 
worthy of an affectionate husband. Why, I 
know that Gerald loves me. He is bound up in 
me quite as rnuch as I am in him. How can I 
but worship him ? He adores me. Oh, Eloise, 
I could not live without his love — I could not. 
If he should ever cease to love me, and me only, 
it would kill me ! ” 

“We never know how much we can endure, 
dear,” Eloise says sadly, “until we are put to the 
test. Often times when one grows weary and 
longs for death, one finds that it is much harder 
to die than to live.” 

' “I wish mother could know how happy I am 
now,” Ada goes on dreamily. “I wonder if she 
does know. They say that heaven smiles upon all 
happy marriages. Then it must smile upon ours. 
I want you to meet Gerald, Eloise. Fm sure you 
would like each other,” she went on, not noticing 
how white Eloise had grown. “You must come 
to see us often. We will only be away a week or 
ten days, and then you know where we will 
live.” 

“Yes,” Eloise answered ; “but you must not ex- 
pect me to come so often, Ada ; for I am always 
in my study now, busy writing. You must not 
wait for me to come. Do not let your husband 
cause you to forget your old friend,” smiling a 
little sadly, perhaps. “I can’t but be a little jeal- 
ous of him.” 

“I’ll never forget you, Eloise,” the other said, 
quite seriously for her, and her eyes were bright 
with unshed tears. “I’ll always love you, dear. 


64 


K Modern Evil 
A- 

Not as much as him, you know; but very, very 
dearly.” 

Eloise walked down street to her home. Twi- 
light was falling, and Ada’s words rang in her 
ears. 


I 


A Modern Evil 


65 


CHAPTER VII. 

HER FIRST BALL. 

‘‘But sweeter still than this, than these, than all, 

Is first and passionate love — it stands alone. 
Like Adam’s recollection of his fall.” 

— Lord Byron, 

The eventful night of the Nevarro ball rolled 
around, and Eloise found herself the center of 
attraction. She had been prone to think of this, 
her first ball with a feeling akin to dread. The 
first ball usually means a great deal to a girl, 
especially to one who has seen very little of life. 
But once in a carriage with Mrs. Van (who had 
called for her) she felt her embarrassment de- 
serting her. Mrs. Van Worth glanced down at 
her daughter and at her protege with evident 
satisfaction. 

She felt sure there would be none present who 
would eclipse them. The glare of the electric 
light fell full upon Eloise’s face as they drove 
along in the balmy July air and revealed the soft- 
ened curve of her beautiful throat like a pillar 
of marble against the pale blue lining of her 
white plush opera cloak; her face was calm and 
serene as the reflection of moonlight on some 
peaceful lake; her wondrously beautiful dark 


66 


A Modern Evil 


eyes and her rich dark hair made a striking con- 
trast to her exquisitely fair face. The irrepres- 
sible Zida was rattling away as usual. 

“So you wore your dress low?” she was say- 
ing to Eloise, as they neared the scene of the fes- 
tivities. “It’s a wonder you did, though, you 
have such odd notions, Eloise, about such things, 
and it’s beastly of you, too. You have such a 
pretty neck and arms, and you should not mind 
showing them. It’s not nearly as low as mine, 
though,” she went on. 

They were nearing the house now. A hundred 
irridescent lights flashed from the long French 
windows, and Eloise drew her wraps closer about 
her with a little shudder which she could not 
repress. 

They went into the cloak room where dozens 
of pretty girls in absolutely stunning gowns were 
standing before small mirrors. Suddenly she 
recognized one of the number. 

“Why, Ada,” she said in her soft musical voice, 
as she advanced to meet her, “how are you 
dear?” 

The pretty brunette embraced her fondly. 
“You here, Eloise ?” What a pleasure ! How 
sweet you look to-night.” She placed her arms 
around the other’s waist in an affectionate school- 
girl fashion, and looked up lovingly into her face. 
“It makes me think of old times, Eloise,” ten- 
derly. 

“I have not seen you since )^our marriage,” the 
other said. “I had a severe headache that day 
and when we came out of the church I was 
driven directly home. I did not improve and coq- 


A Modern Evil 67 

sequently could not attend the reception, but I 
sent my congratulations.” 

“I knew they were sincere,” Ada replies, with a 
tender glance into the true eyes on a level with 
her own. 

“Yes, yes; you may be quite sure of that. Is 
your husband here to-night ?” The other blushed 
confusedly. 

“No; he did not come with me.” ' 

^ if: ^ 

The beautiful scene that met Eloise’s eyes as 
she entered the ball room dazzled her. No pains 
or expense had been spared to make the occasion 
a success. Flowers there were in endless profu- 
sion, and the soft glow of the many colored lights 
of the gilded chandeliers fell with an enchancing 
radiance on the magnificent costumes, and was 
reflected with a certain defiant mockery in the 
cold glittering light of many diamonds. The in- 
invisible orchestra rendered the music softly se- 
ductive, and the whole affair reminded an on- 
looker of a brief realistic dream of a trip to fairy- 
land. Almost the first person Eloise saw was 
Serrell Levare. He was standing beside Lillian 
Nevarro at the farther end of the room, and she, 
with her white gloved hands clasped lightly be- 
fore her, was looking up at him, and chatting 
with more animation in her white face and lan- 
guid eyes than Eloise had ever seen there before. 
She was dressed in a bewildering gown of silver 
net, draped over a delicate shade of blue satin, 
and Eloise thought she had never dreamed it pos- 
sible for Lillian to look half so charming. Short- 


68 


A Modern Evil 


ly after Earle Nevarro joined them, and Mrs. 
Ballette presented him to Eloise. 

“I want to thank you,” he said, in his low, de- 
liberate way, after a few commonplace remarks, 
“for giving to the world such a book as ‘One 
Woman’s Life.’ ” She inclined her head with 
that enviable grace which was a part of her. 

“I’ve been trying ever since it came out to 
meet you, and this is my first opportunity.” 

“Yes?” 

“Since reading your story three weeks ago I 
have thought of nothing else but this meeting. I 
was given to understand that I should meet you 
here,” twisting his mustache with one white, ner- 
vous hand. “I have imagined you every way — 
pretty, intermediate, charming ” 

“And ugly?” with a smile that almost annihi- 
lated him. 

“No ; never that. No one could imagine a pos- 
itively ugly woman as the author of ‘Ruth.’ ” 

“Well, I hope you are not disappointed in your 
imaginings,” she said archly, raising her dark 
eyes to his. 

“On the contrary, I am quite as charmed with 
the writer as with the writings. Your heroine 
‘Ruth’ is divine. The story is so vivid that I 
could almost imagine myself one of the charac- 
ters. I actually blushed for poor Fred !” 

“Thank you !” she said softly. “That is one of 
the prettiest compliments that has been paid my 
book, and I appreciate it. That, I think, is the 
keynote of sucess. The stories one generally 
reads are too far-fetched to appeal to one’s sym- 
pathies, don’t you think? The good of the plot 


A Modern Evil 


69. 

and general merits are lost entirely in the high- 
flown style in which the subject is handled. 
Reading some of our modern stories one can 
easily imagine that they are reading of the lives 
of royalty as it existed in the time of Elizabeth, 
so formal and stilted are the conversations of its 
characters. What the public wants now is a 
story that appeals to every-day home life. It is 
astonishing how capricious the public fancy is ! 
About every three years the whole reading world 
undergoes a complete change. For one period 
nothing but historical books succeed. Then fol- 
lows a silly season, in which the trashiest sort of 
literature is accepted and hungrily devoured by 
the reading world. I think their criticisms are 
governed by the mood they happen to be in when 
criticising. I cannot see if it is otherwise why 
some books ever gain such marked popularity 
over others which are just as good, if not really 
better, and which fall short of success.” 

“Won’t you dance with me?” Nevarro said, as 
the orchestra struck up a lively waltz. 

“I am sorry,” she said, “but I do not waltz.” 

“Then the next cotillion?” he pleaded. 

She bowed her head and he wrote his name on 
her card. 

“You are not dancing?” someone asked be- 
side her. Eloise looked up to see Levare, with 
that grave, rare smile on his lips. 

“No. That is — I haven’t danced yet. I can- 
not say that I fancy dancing so very much.” 

He regarded her a moment silently. 

“You are diiferent from most women,” he 
said. “Mrs, Ballette has left her home and hus- 


70 A Modern Evil . 

band to come here to-night to dance with 
others.” 

“Do not judge from appearance altogether,” 
she said, looking across the room where Ada was 
whirling about in the arms of a gay young Lo- 
thario, who seemed highly flattered by the fact 
that the most beautiful woman in the room had 
deigned to dance with him. “From what I 
could gather from her conversation, I came to 
the conclusion that she has come here to-night in 
order to keep from remaining alone.” 

Levare looked into her face with a peculiar ex- 
pression in his dark, magnetic eyes. “So soon?” 
he thought. “Great heavens ! The fickleness of 
mankind is something shocking in the extreme !” 

Earle had stepped back when Serrell came upon 
the scene — a peculiar, questioning gleam in his 
eyes. He did not propose to share his partner’s 
conversation with any man. It was quite evident, 
he thought somewhat savagely, as he stood at a 
distance watching them, that Levare was badly 
epris already. 

“My dear, are you enjoying yourself?” came 
Mrs. Nevarro’s voice, as she passed resplendent 
in satin and diamonds. “Not dancing?” 

“Ah ! Mrs. Nevarro,” the girl replies, “you see 
I have the advantage of the others. While they 
are whirling around in the giddy mazes of the 
waltz, I am standing here quietly enjoying it all, 
by looking on, without fear of experiencing the 
fatigue on the morrow.” 

“You are wise, my dear,” the lady returned, 
smiling graciously, while Levare observed evi- 
dently bored, 


A Modern Evil 71 

Just at that moment Earle advanced. 

“I believe this is our dance, Miss Venarez,” he 
said with his usual easy grace, but Eloise could 
not fail to detect a slight annoyance in his tone — 
“if you care to dance it.” 

“Yes, certainly,” she answered, laying her 
white gloved hand upon his sleeve. 

The cotillion slowly circled around, forming 
an endless chain, and showing off the fair debu- 
tante’s variously tinted costumes effectively. Ever 
and anon Eloise caught a glimpse of Zida’s pretty 
animated face and red hair. Levare, dancing 
with Mrs. Ballette, looked across and saw Eloise 
smiling up at Nevarro. A quick, ungovernable, 
unaccountable pang of resentment thrilled 
through him. 

“You look tired,” Serrell was saying a little 
later, as he gazed into Eloise’s face, which for 
some reason had grown suddenly pale. “Let us 
go into the conservatory. The heat of the rooms 
have fatigued you and the air will do you good.” 

She took his arm in silence, but with a feeling 
of gladness at her heart, and they passed out 
into the conservatory. 

The delicious odor of the fragrant jassamine 
greeted them. Eloise took a seat beside a marble 
urn. Levare sat down beside her. A sigh of re- 
lief escaped the girl’s lips. At last she could 
rest. She did not feel compelled to smile now. 
The subdued splash of the fountain near at 
hand had an irresistably soothing effect upon 
her, and she raised her eyes to her companion’s 
face. 

“Now we can talk,’’ he said, turning to her. 


72 


A Modern Evil 


and thinking bitterly how much she had changed 
since he had first known her. He suddenly took 
her hand. 

“I want to tell you what an impression your 
story has made upon me,” he said, with a world 
of meaning in his dark eyes. 

The hand he held trembled slightly. She had 
often wondered what his opinion of her work 
would be. Once she had feared that he would 
not deign to read it. 

“I could not tell you in there what I thought 
of it,” he resumed after a moment’s silence. “I 
think you will understand why ” 

He paused again. 

“It is something to be proud of, and I almost 
envy you. The critics have been generous in 
their praise of it, and I think it is destined to fill 
a long felt want.” 

Through the open widows the music floated 
out to them. The soft, subdued lights fell in long 
slanting rays across the garden. Eloise instinc- 
tively raised her eyes to his. 

“I’m sure I was never vain enough to hope for 
anything like the success it has achieved,” she 
said, while her hand still lay submissively in his. 

“It is simple in construction,” he said, “yet the 
sentiment is grand — it is sublime ! It is deep 
enough to be intensely interesting without being 
so much so as to mystify its readers. That’s 
where I fancy most writers make a mistake.” 

Eloise experienced a thrill of pride as she lis- 
tened to this young man’s candid opinion of her 
book. Somehow she valued his opinion more 
than that of anyone else, and often in writing she 


A Modern Evil 


7Z 

felt secretly anxious as to what he would think 
of it. She knew Serrell Levare to be a man cap- 
able of independent thought. 

“I hardly dared hope that you would read it,” 
she said with a slight smile. 

He regarded her intensely, a dark light shining 
in his eyes. 

“Did you really think so lightly of me, Eloise? 
Or must it be Miss Venarez from henceforth? 
Shall it be ‘Eloise’ as in the old days?” 

“Yes,” she said softly, a slight tremor in her 
sweet voice, “as in the old days.” 

He pressed the hand he held. 

“You should have known that I would read it 
after I found who its author was. I do not for- 
get old friends so easily. Was there any special 
incident which came under your observation that 
prompted your portrayal of ‘Ruth’s’ character ?” 

“None whatever,” she answered calmly. 

“Your imagination is indeed vivid. ‘Ruth’ is 
my ideal of perfect womanhood and if I should 
ever love it would be a woman like that. Always 
keep your heroines as pure as she; if you must 
degrade any of your characters let it be the 
heroes. Do not degrade them in order to gain 
public favor — to cater to a passing fancy. You 
cannot afford to do so. Better no reputation as a 
writer than a bad one.” 

Eloise felt the truth of his convictions. Where 
was another young man of her acquaintance who 
would speak to her in this vein ? 

“I fancied,” he went on, “that the personality 
of ‘Ruth’ reminded me of you.” 

“No indeed,” she laughed. “I am no such 


74 


'A Modern Evil 


woman as I pictured my heroine, I assure you. 
I could not be as resigned as she.” 

Suddenly Levare spoke. 

‘‘You used to long for the life you are now 
entering how do ou think you will enjoy it?” 

A shadow passed over her beautiful face. She 
looked away from him. 

“I am disappointed,” she said, with a touch of 
sadness in her clear voice. “It is all so hollow — 
everytning i a pretence. I am begi ning to think 
that real friendship and true hearts exist only in 
fiction.” 

He regarded her with a bitter smile on his 
firm lips. 

“I feared as much. You were such a devoted 
believer in all things good. I feared for you 
when you should grow to see the world as it is. 
Society is like the ‘apples of Sodom’ — enticing 
to view, but hollow to the core. I hope you may 
always remain the same, Eloise.” 

“Yes,” she said, apparently in a deep study, 
“but I grew out of my belief which you refer to 
as being so devout. I grew out of it long ago. 
I don’t know who to believe in now.” 

“You know,” he went on, while a slight smile 
plays across his lips — “you know those are not 
the theories advanced in ‘One Woman’s Life.’ 
They are different sentiments altogether. You 
must practice what you preach, Eloise.” 

“Yes; remind me of my duty, please. I have 
had a sad life, Serrell — a very sad life; and I 
have been very rebellious at times; sinfully so. 
Long ago I suffered much and one whom I 
loved better than life suffered also, and I grew 


A Modern Evil 


75 


very bitter toward the world generally; but I 
have been taught a lesson, I think. We are never 
forgotten by heaven, though sometimes we may 
think so. I thought my lot undeservedly hard 
when years ago’’ — her eyes were misty now and 
she gazed into space — “little Hugh was taken 
from me. I fought fiercely against Fate, but now 
I think I can see wherein it was best for me.” 

She rose and he did likewise, and stood before 
her. From the rooms a girl’s soft laughter 
floated out to them. 

“I need not try to keep anything connected 
with my past from you,” she continued; “you 
know how we were situated, and what a hard, 
lonely life was mine, but you don’t know all. 
There was once a time when I prayed for such 
an existence as this. If I could have had it then 
I would have enjoyed it all. But now, no matter 
what happens, I can never be happy. It doesn’t 
seem right that I should enjoy life when my dear 
dead ones could not ” 

For a moment he silently regarded her down- 
cast face — a hard, unreal expression on his de- 
termined young face. 

“I pray you do not think yourself alone in 
your sorrow,” he said, suddenly, again taking 
her hand. Sometimes when the world seems so 
heartless and cold it is a mask assumed to hide 
deeper feelings — to hide sorrow. We are not 
always bound to express our feelings, are we? 
Oftentimes we force a smile to our lips to hide 
deeper and more bitter emotions; and, Eloise, 
there are greater sorrows in this world than 


76 


A Modern Evil 


death. That is the expected. It is worse to be 
deceived by one you love.” 

She looked at him wonderingly. 

“There is consolation is knowing that 'every 
heart knoweth its own bitterness.’ Try to think 
better of the world, Eloise. I think I know what 
it is to feel alone. My parents died when I was 
only fourteen, and within a month of each other, 
and since then I have known no home but the one 
I have now. I am more desolate than you. You 
have your brother. I have no one nearer than 
my uncle. It is bad for a man to feel so alone; 
it must be horrible for a woman. I try to drown 
my loneliness in my profession; you must do 
the same,” taking her hand in both his own 
and pressing it firmly. “Always remember here- 
after when you feel lonely and neglected that 
there is at least one among your acquaintances 
who feels for you deeply — who has gone through 
it all himself, and who, if he appears hollow and 
unfeeling to others, will never be so to you; 
always remember that.” 

She took his arm and they passed through the 
spacious corridors to the ball room. 

“We thought you had gone to stay !” Zida said. 
We’ve been waiting for you ever so long. Earle 
has seen that you are here, now I presume he’ll 
begin the Ribbon Cotillion. He saw it in Ma- 
drid last year when he was doing Spain.” 

She crossed the room to Nevarro. 

“Yes ; we will have it just as soon as this dance 
is over,” he said. “We want it to be last, you 
know.” 

Yards of variously colored and brightly hued 


A Modern Evil 


77 


ribbons are suspended from the ceiling, to each 
length is attached a bunch of flowers, and all 
the ribbons are numbered. The rights to pull 
are drawn like prizes to a lottery. Of these 
ribbons one is fastened to a beautiful wreath of 
white flowers, which, when the ribbon to which 
it is attached is pulled, falls into the hands of the 
lucky individual, who has the privilege of crown- 
ing anyone he or she may deem King or Queen 
of the Ball, to whom all are required to render 
homage and admiration. 

Nevarro made his way across the room to the 
beautiful Mrs. Ballette, who was chatting gaily 
with Mrs. Nevarro. There was a strange, ques- 
tioning gleam, in his eyes as he approached her. 
Three months ago this girl had thrown him over 
to marry Girard Ballette. Nevarro had imagined 
himself desperately in love with her at the time, 
and he could not look with indifference on the re- 
sult of affairs even yet; but we are told that a 
man usually outgrows such heart wounds as are 
received before the age of twenty-five, though 
they seem everlasting at the time. She looked up 
as he approached with a certain witching raillery 
in her dark eyes that he did not fail to note. A 
swift, humiliating emotion swept over him. Did 
she then feel that she still had him in her power ? 
He felt a stinging desire to rebuke her for the 
way in which she had treated him, and yet he 
was far too proud to let her know that he cared. 
Around his sensitive mouth were tense, drawn 
lines. 

“This is our dance,’' he says, bending over her, 
a hard ring in his voice, “if you care to dance it. 


A Modern Evil 

If not we will go into the conservatory until the 
next.” 

She slipped her hand through his arm and they 
passed out into the cool flower-scented gardens. 

Eloise experienced a vague, restful calm in be- 
ing able to look into Serrelhs grave, deep eyes, 
and to touch his hand at every turn. She was 
glad that he was to be her partner throughout the 
dance. His deep, tender regard — his voice — 
brought over her a rush of old memories with a 
keen longing akin to pain. She felt that with 
him she had something in common ; that he took 
hold on her past. The others she had met were 
of her old life a thing apart — living creatures 
moving in a realistic dream. 

The mMsic touched Levare’s nature with a 
strange, irresistible longing — a desire for some- 
thing nobler and better; something his empty 
heart had always craved, but never felt. He 
looked down into his companion’s eyes question- 
ingly, and firmly pressed her hands as they swung 
through the dance. The music had stirred 
Eloise deeply, too. She felt his look sinking into 
her soul. She passed the length of the room in 
the promenade with him, and the dance was over. 
He led her to a seat. As she passed across the 
room she raised her eyes ; they encountered the 
full regard of Nevarro. He was standing in the 
entrance way from the garden, with Ada at his 
side. There was a pained drawn expression on 
his white face which Eloise never remembered 
having seen there before. Ada was strangely 
silent. 


A Modern Evil 


79 


*'It couldn’t have been improved upon, I assure 
you, Mr. Nevarro,” a pale blonde with a lorgnette 
was saying at the conclusion of the Ribbon Cotil- 
lion. ^‘It is quite an original idea ; where did you 
get it?” 

The ribbons had been drawn and the magnifi- 
cent wreath of waxen white blossoms had fallen 
into the possession of Levare. With a few ap- 
propriately spoken words he had knelt at Eloise’s 
feet, and rising, had placed it upon her dark hair. 
There had been a round of applause — a soft clap- 
ping of gloved hands. The music — a wild Span- 
ish mazurka — had suddenly passed into a stirring 
two-step. The dancers with one accord knelt be- 
fore the chosen Queen of the Ball, and the dance 
was declared over. 

‘“Give, unrestrained, the old emotion. 

The bliss that touched the verge of pain, 

The strength of Hate, Love’s deep devotion.” 

Hi >ls 

The next evening there came a decided rat-tat- 
tat at Earle Nevarro’s door. He was sitting be- 
side the window leisurely smoking a cigar. 

“Are you there, Earle? May I come in?” 
came Zida’s shrill voice from the outside, while 
the knob was rattling vigorously. 

“Yes; certainly,” he answered, striding across 
the floor and opening the door to admit his small 
cousin. “When did you get in ?” 

“Just this moment,” said she, sauntering up to 
the raised window and sitting down in it. “I 
found that Lillian has gone to the Venarez’. 
Aunt Mildred is taking her usual afternoon siesta, 


8o 


A Modern Evil 


and didn’t want to be disturbed, and as I didn’t 
want to go right home I searched you up. I say,” 
suddenly, ‘‘Lillian is getting marvellously ‘fresh’ 
around the Venarez’, isn’t she?” 

Nevarro smiled indulgently. 

“Don’t let it disturb you; it is not leap year, 
you know.” 

“Oh, I’m not jealous a bit if that’s what you 
mean,” she retorts quickly. 

There is a moment’s silence. 

“Have you gotten over the dance?” he asked. 

“No. I am tired yet. I danced every time, 
and I had the gayest time imaginable.” 

“Why didn’t you prepare me for it, Zida?” 
Earle said, suddenly. “Why didn’t you tell me 
that Miss Venarez was one of the prettiest girls 
I ever saw? She is charming.” 

“Because I wanted you to find that out your- 
self. How did I know you would consider her 
pretty ? You have such odd ideas of beauty, any- 
way. I had no idea you would fancy her style. 
You rave over professional beauties, and I knew 
Eloise was a different type. I’ve never seen a 
great beauty, so-called, yet that I thought the 
least bit pretty. They are too classically perfect 
to be pretty, and I don’t fancy perfection.” 

“So much for lack of taste,” he said dryly. 

“Do you think her as pretty as Mrs. Ballette ?” 

An expression of annoyance passed over his 
face. 

“She is not like Mrs. Ballette,” he said; “not 
in the least.” 

He caressed his mustache a moment in silence, 


A Modern Evil 8i 

a slight frown contracting his brow, and then he 
spoke : 

“I lost something last night at the dance — 
something I didn’t think I possessed, and I miss 
it dreadfully.” 

Zida’s questioning brown eyes met his. 
“What’s the grievance now?” 

Nevarro repressed a smile. 

“I think it’s my heart ; or, at least, I miss some- 
thing out of here,” touching his breast, signifi- 
cantly. 

“You’re mistaken,” Zida returned, gravely, 
“you’ve never had a heart to lose ! Perhaps you 
didn’t eat enough dinner?” 

Her eyes roamed over the room ; then looking 
up she met his regard, and they both laughed. 

The low rumbling of distant thunder reached 
them. 

“It’s going to rain,” she said. “I’d better go.” 


82 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER VIIL 

ZIDA. 

‘T know a maiden fair to see — 

Take care ! 

She can both false and friendly be, 

Beware ! Beware ! 

Trust her not ; she is fooling thee !” 

The thundery July evening was on the wane ; 
the sickening heat had passed. The thunder rolled 
and rumbled like fiery chariots on the pavements 
of the world. Eloise was in the garden. She was 
thinking of Levare. Some sentence she had just 
read reminded her of a few words he had uttered 
a week before at the dance. It had been nearly 
six years since she had first known him. He had 
changed very little. He looked more like a man 
now, and he must be quite twenty-five. Eloise 
closed her eyes. As in a dream she saw herself 
back in her home on dismal, obscure South Street. 
He and Zida were the only true friends she had 
then — yes, and Ada — and she always looked for- 
ward to their visits as a flower looks for sun- 
shine. She recalled that sad evening long ago 
when his thoughtfulness had brightened her baby 
brother’s life. How she adored him for that! 


A Modern Evil 


83 

How we love those who have shown a kindness 
to some dear one with whose presence we are 
blessed no more forever ! She had the beloved 
toy still, locked away from sight, with its ribbon 
bridle, soiled and tied full of knots, and its once 
beautiful dappled body showing here and there 
the prints of loving baby fingers. She had never 
looked at it but once since baby’s death, and that 
was when on the night of the dance she had 
opened its receptacle and lovingly placed beside 
it the beautiful wreath of white blossoms. 

Some one rang the door bell and a moment 
later Serrell was admitted. He wended his way 
into the garden. She did not see him as he 
walked eagerly down the flower-bordered path 
toward her. She was sitting on a rustic settee, 
at the end of the garden, idly pulling to pieces a 
pink La France rose. She turned her head as he 
appeared, and their eyes met. 

“So you found me?” she said smiling, and 
making room for him beside her. 

“Yes. I preferred finding you to being an- 
nounced. What a pretty place you have here !” 

“Yes; isn’t it beautiful?” she said quietly. 
“These jessamines are lovely, so pure and white 
and fragrant, and the foliage makes such a 
charming background. I love them so! They 
were my mother’s favorite flowers, and they are 
mine. Nothing carries me back to the past like 
they.” 

“Give me one, won’t you ?” he asked. 

She reached up to one above her head. 

“No; not that please; the one you are wear- 
ing. There are others you know.” 


84 


A Modern Evil 


He was looking at her steadily now. 

“Have you been writing much lately ? I fancied 
you looked tired.” 

She shook her head. 

“No; nothing except one or two short stories, 
and that not lately. I think the warm weather is 
telling on me. I have an idea of running down 
to the seashore about the first of August. I want 
a little change.” 

“A capital idea,” he said. “I wish my duties 
were not so urgent, and I would go also. The 
heat of the city right now is terrible. This is the 
first summer in five years that has found me un- 
able to take a short vacation. Auntie always 
rented a cottage down on the Island until Zida 
went off to school four years ago and then she 
boarded. I heard her say this morning some- 
thing about going down for a short time. I 
think she would have taken a cottage for the 
season, but Zida is so afraid of storms, and they 
are more violent there than here. She is timid 
about going in water, too, and I don't think she 
is very anxious to go. She has an idea that she 
will have a more enjoyable time here, though I 
can’t imagine why, for society is all there now. A 
good many went down this morning, and more 
leave to-morrow. Those who remained until now 
did so for the purpose of attending the ball. I 
fancy things are pretty lively down there now.” 

“Yes,” she said, somewhat wearily ; “that is one 
reason I don’t want to go. There is no rest 
there. I want to go where there is absolut 
quiet.” 

Eevare studied for a moment. 


A Modern Evil 


85 

think I know where you could find such a 
place,” he said. “Mrs. Nevarro has a fine place 
down near the seaside. It is a quaint old struc- 
ture, isolated and extremely picturesque. It is 
made entirely of gray stone and the moss of 
nearly two centuries almost cover it. To be ex- 
act, it was built in the year 1714, and I suppose 
is one of the oldest buildings in the State. The 
date 1714 is shown in white brick over the door. 
It is a curious old building, almost entirely round 
and the main room is very large, and all the other 
rooms open out into it. It is situated just in the 
edge of a cypress forest, and in the distance one 
can see the blue ocean. Then there is a high hill 
to the east — almost a mountain, and vast fields all 
around. It is twelve miles from any railroad. It 
was owned by a rich slave owner and remained 
the property of the family until a few years ago, 
when the last member died, and Mrs. Van saw it 
and became fascinated by its old world aspect, 
and learning that it was for sale, purchased it, 
along with all its quaint and curious furnishings. 
Zida has been begging her aunt to bring a few 
pieces to her town house here — she and Miss Lil- 
lian — but Mrs. Nevarro will not consent to have 
a thing removed. She has been offered incred- 
ible sums by relic hunters for a single piece, but 
has refused. They have an old Scotchman and 
his wife living there to look after everything. 
They have not summered there since Miss Lillian 
went off to school. Nevarro and I went down one 
winter about three years ago. He has a kennel 
of as fine hounds as I ever saw, and several fine 
horses, and a regular armory. He goes on a big 


S6 A Modern Evil 

deer hunt every winter. He is one man who en- 
joys life.’' 

There was a wistful expression in his dark 
eyes as he ceased speaking. 

“Yes,” Eloise said, “and yet he seems very 
generous.” 

Levare cleared his throat. 

“Generous to a fault. He’s a number one good 
fellow, is Nevarro.” 

j}s ^ 

Up the broad granite steps of the Venarez 
residence ran a second figure; a slim, girlish 
form clad in white from head to foot. A jaunty 
white cap rested on the red boyish curls ; a white 
blazer flared open showing the fluffy front of 
white silk, in which the pale, mysterious gems of 
the moonstone shimmered softly. Around the 
slender waist was a white kid belt, and in her 
white gloved hand she carried a dainty white be- 
ruffled parasol, which, in its gauzy airiness, re- 
sembled nothing so much as a mammoth holly- 
hock. 

She paused before the door and violently pulled 
the bell. There was no answer to the summons, 
and a moment later a well-known and thoroughly 
masculine voice rang through the house. 

“Martha! Where in the dickens is the girl?” 

But “the girl” was evidently enjoying a snooze, 
for there was no reply ; and Venarez, pulling him- 
self together, rose, and walking slowly across the 
hall, opened the door to greet the smiling face of 
Zida. 

“Hello, there!” she said, as he allowed her to 


A Modern Evil 


87 

pass. ^‘What's the matter with you? Been 
asleep ?” 

“Yes,” answered he, as she drops inertly into 
a low fauteuil, and pulling off her small cap, pro- 
ceeds to fan herself. “Yes, for the last blessed 
three hours.” 

Zida looked at him and laughed. 

“Well, it’s a pity you can’t sleep enough at 
night; evil conscience, I suppose.” 

“That’s it,” Jack said, running his fingers 
through his thick blonde hair ; “you know how it 
is yourself.” 

“Yes ; you have my sympathy.” 

“Where is Eloise?” 

“Can’t say. I’m sure. Haven’t seen her since 
dinner. Gone out I suppose.” 

“Isn’t it dreadfully warm?” the young lady 
presently said. “The thermometer has been 
standing 100 in the shade for four successive 
days.” 

“Let me get you a better fan,” he says, rising, 
“and excuse me for not doing so sooner.” 

“No, no,” she answered quickly, “this is all 
right.” 

She accepted the fan, however, with a quick 
little bow. 

In a moment she left her seat and going across 
to the mantel she toyed with a small piece of 
bric-a-brac in a maner altogether restless. Jack 
watched the petite figure admiringly, with some- 
thing of the same relish with which he would ad- 
mire a blooded filly. He advanced to where she 
stood. She turned from the mantel and held out 
a small hand to him. 


88 


A Modern Evil 


“Have you nothing to smoke, Jack? Give me 
a cigarette, will you ? I haven’t had a pull at one 
in a week. The last time I was smoking papa 
came very near catching me, and there would 
have been ‘a, hot time,’ and don’t you forget it. 
I had to throw my cigarette behind a table, and as 
it was the last one I had, and I didn’t know where 
the next one was coming from, I was cross all 
day. I have to be so shy about buying them.” 

“So you’ve gone at it at last?” Jack says, hold- 
ing out to her a package of cigarettes. “Do you 
really like it?” 

Zida slowly drew one from the package and de- 
liberately dampened the ends between her red 
lips. 

“Sure. Why should I indulge if I do not en- 
joy them? Keep it dark, will you? Nobody 
knows of this new acquisition to my list of en- 
numerable vices except Earle and Lillian, and 
now yourself — not even Serrell. I’d as soon an- 
nounce the fact through the locals of ‘The State' 
as to let him know it. He’d be so shocked he’d 
tell papa and mama, and then I guess I’d be sent 
to a nunnery, there to remain indefinitely. Ser- 
rell’s got no use for up-to-date girls ; he likes the 
old sort best. Give me a light, will you ?” 

Jack bent forward to touch the lighted end of 
his cigarette to hers. 

“There!” she said, standing erect and puffing 
a small gust of blue smoke to the ceiling ; “that’s 
all right. Thank you!” 

Venarez watched her with a strange light in his 
blue eyes. Well, she was peculiar. She was not 
a back number — he had not met her ilk outside 


A Modern Evil Bg 

of — and yet, hang it all ! He found it decidedly 
pleasant and interesting to be with her. 

“Are you going to the matinee tomorrow after- 
noon?” he asked. 

She flicked the ashes from the end of her small 
“smoker” with the air of a veteran, while she 
puffed away thoughtfully with half closed eyes. 

“Why? Are you?” 

“If you will go with me,” he replied very low. 

“All right,” she answered, smiling, “ril go, 
certainly. Have you a fly plaster of some kind 
that I may stick to the back of my head to help me 
smoke this thing you’ve given me? I’m com- 
pletely out of breath ! What have you done to 
it ? Confound it !” 

The young man laughed. 

“Not a thing, I assure you.” 

“If this is the brand you give to your friends 
I do not wonder that your conscience will not 
allow you no rest at night,” she went on, throw- 
ing the stump into the grate. “I’m exhausted. 
Doubt if I’ll have strength to reach home. Ring 
for an ambulance, will you?” with a naughty 
laugh. 

She consulted her watch. 

“I must go; it’s six o’clock. Tell Eloise I’ve 
been here. You needn’t tell her how long I 
stayed, though.” 

She flounced out of the room. 

Jack followed in her wake. 

“Did you ride?” he asked as they reached the 
door. 

I “Yes. I came on my wheel.” 


90 


A Modern Evil 


“Then if you don’t mind,” he said, reaching for 
his cap, “I’ll ride home with you.” 

S|c * 5js * * 

A few days later it happened that Zida, Serrell, 
Earle and Miss Lillian were dining with our 
friend Eloise. They were not especially invited ; 
they just happened in. Eloise, in her habitual 
soft white, sat at the head of the table. Zida and 
Jack sat vis-a-vis, and she was talking in her in- 
exhaustible manner about the matinee they had 
attended a few days before. Jack tossed off a 
glass of champagne. 

“Yes,” she said, “the dancing was superb. Zil- 
lah was at her best. The songs were immense. 
Trust a variety show like that for new dances and 
catchy airs.” 

“Yes,” Zida said, “I’ve got the little jig down 
fine,” with a sidewise glance at Serrell, who 
looked across at her with a peculiar smile, half 
repressed. He set his glass down and looked up 
at Eloise. She nodded. “It’s only Zida,” she 
said, smiling indulgently. “She is to be excused, 
you know.” 

“I want to be an actress myself,” Zida rattled 
on. “If papa and mama were to wink out I’d go 
on the stage so quick it would make your head 
swim. I would like to be in a play like ‘Zillah,’ 
one of the variety kind, you know.” 

“Suppose you couldn’t get on?” interposed 
Earle. “It is not always a pretty face that meets 
with success. You must have talent to succeed as 
an actress.” 

“It’s just luck,” Miss Lillian ventured. “It’s 
not a pretty face, or talent either, that is always 


A Modern Evil 


accepted. If your lucky star is in the ascendant 
you will be accepted; if not, you will be re- 
jected. 

“Yes,'' Zida said, smiling approval at her 
blonde cousin; “that's just it. Look at the suc- 
cess ‘Zillah' has met with. She is not at all pretty, 
if she does appear so on the stage, and her voice 
is like a crow's ; and yet if popular report is to be 
credited her yearly salary exceeds that of the 
President. It is just that nameless something 
about them that takes." 

“I wouldn’t be an actress, I think," Miss Lil- 
lian said slowly. “I do not fancy the lives they 
lead. If I should be though. I’d want to fill such 
places as did Sarah Bernhardt and Ellen Terry, 
or Mary Anderson. No inferior part for me." 

Zida flushed up a bit. 

“I wouldn’t have such parts !’’ she said, a little 
hotly. “We see too much tragedy in real life to 
wish to see it in the play. Most people’s aver- 
sion to stage life and stage people is backed up by 
prejudice. They envy their popularity. I don’t 
care what is said against them. They enjoy life, 
and that is a great item. So far as being our in- 
feriors socially, they don’t care for that; they 
move in a gay world of their own, and a large 
majority of them spring from the best families. 
Some of the nobility of Europe are on the stage. 
What does it profit us to sit up on our own 
dignity and ‘blood’ and refer to such people in a 
condescending way, when they have more money, 
more fun, and receive more homage in one night 
than we receive in our lives?" 


92 


A Modern Evil 


“It is the hardest life one can lead/' Earle said. 
“They deserve all they get out of it." 

“Nevertheless, they enjoy themselves," Zida 
said. “They are well paid and money talks." 

Eloise looks at her steadily. 

“That’s true," said she, “without it we are usu- 
ally in need of friends; with it, no matter how 
we come into that possession, we can’t stir for 
them." 

Zida nodded approvingly. 

“That’s just it. You know how it is yourself, 
Eloise, and you’re truthful enough to own it." 

“Serrell tells me you are thinking of running 
down to the seashore now soon, Eloise," said Lil- 
lian, suddenly. 

“Yes." 

Zida was instantly all attention. 

“Really, Eloise?" 

“Positively." 

“Well, do let me go too, won’t you?" 

“Certainly. I will be delighted to have you, 
and you, too, Lillian." 

“That’s a good idea," Earle said. “Why not 
have the whole crowd go?" 

“I’m sure I do not object. I was only speaking 
for myself," returned Eloise. 

“Yes, let’s all go," Jack put in. “You can get 
off for a few days, can’t you, Levare?" 

“I don’t know," he answered reflectively. “I 
should like to." 

“Yes, of course he can," Nevarro said posi- 
tively, bent on the trip in view. “There’s no use 
in a man’s killing himself because he can.” 


A Modern Evil 


93 


Serrell laughed. “No; I believe that is your 
creed, Nevarro. I think I can get off possibly.’' 

“Who’s to chaperone the girls?” Jack asked. 

“Mother and auntie will go, I know,” Nevarro 
said. “I’m sure they will, if only to oblige us.” 

“Let’s see,” said Jack reflectively, “this is 
Thursday. We might go next Thursday or Fri- 
day. That will give the girls time to get ready. 
We don’t need any preparations. That is all 
characteristic of women. That is why all steam- 
boats and cars are referred to as ‘she,’ they say — 
‘the rigging costs more than the hull.’ All on the 
outside, and all for show.” 

“It makes me think of what I heard my father 
say once, ’ ’ Earle took it up. ‘ ‘He said it used to be 
common before the war, when some people were 
expecting company, to call up all the little darkies 
and have them grease their faces all over, and 
then have them play in the front yard when the 
company came ; all the time the poor little devils 
were so hungry they could see spirits.” 

Jack pushed his ice-cream saucer from him. 

“They’d never have played that old gag on 
me,” he said, as they all rise and go into the 
drawing-room. “I would have swiped that 
grease off in one round. It couldn’t taunt me 
with its smell when I was hungry. That is one 
of the might-have-beens that I would not have 
suffered.” 

There was a delightfully cool breeze stirring 
now; it blew into the room and against the lace 
curtains, which balanced coquettishly back and 
forth, fluttering like flags in a gale. 

“This is glorious 1” Jack said, sinking down on 


94 


A Modern Evil 


a rich divan. Zida sat down beside him, and 
Earle walked across to a dainty easel and regarded 
the painting before him with the eye of a con- 
noisseur. Eloise stood beside him. Levare and 
Lillian were seated in one of the long windows. 

“Will you sing something?” Earle asked. “Zida 
says you sing beautifully.” 

“Zida is a great flatterer,” Eloise answered. “I 
play very little.” 

“I know,” he persisted; “but you sing, and 
please sing something for me, won’t you?” 

Thus touchingly appealed to the girl advanced 
toward the piano, and taking her seat, began an 
old love song, one she had known all her life, and 
one she used to sing sometimes in the dear, dead 
days on South Street. Levare listened intently. 
It carried him back many years. There was an 
intense, absorbed expression on his grave, young 
face as he watched her profile — calm, tender, 
hopeful — so distinctly seen from his present post 
of observation. Nevarro was leaning on the 
piano — his very soul in his eyes as he watched 
her. A quick, unwarrantable, ungovernable jeal- 
ousy swept over Levare’s heart. Was Nevarro 
feeling like that toward her already ? Impossible ! 
And yet there was no mistaking that look ; he had 
regarded her that way himself. We are told that 
first love is the sweetest; and Earle had once 
loved very dearly, with that deep confiding trust 
that is peculiar to youth — and had been rejected. 
He had grown rather cynical after that, and he, 
usually so cold and proud had become somewhat 
rash and reckless. When some months before, 
Ada Dalton, his boyhood’s sweetheart, who had 


A Modern Evil 


95 


for years encouraged and shown him preference, 
had suddenly thrown him over to marry Girard 
Ballette, he believed himself undone. The humili- 
ation which he felt at the time was intolerable. 
He knew that the way she had treated him would 
be town talk, for with the indiscretion of youth 
he had not sought to conceal his absorbing pas- 
sion for her. He was deeply, bitterly hurt, but 
with the stubborn pride which was part of him he 
tried to hide his chagrin at the risk of his future 
well-being, and in this mood he had proposed to 
Zida. After his experience with the beautiful 
Mrs. Ballette he lost faith in women generally, as 
such cases are wont to do, and in his then present 
state of mind he found relief in his capricious 
cousin’s society. She helped to confirm his opin- 
ion, already biased, toward her sex. Until re- 
cently she had been totally impartial in her likes 
and dislikes to all the young men of her acquaint- 
ance. Now, however, it seemed quite probable 
that there was to be a decided preference shown 
our friend Jack. Eloise had finished singing. 
She rose from the piano, and at Nevarro’s request 
they all went into the garden. Levare and Lillian 
followed, but at the last moment Jack and Zida 
decided to remain behind. When the others were 
gone Zida crossed over to the piano and began 
playing the gay little air she had learned at the 
play, “Zillah,” a week before. She rattled it off at 
a lively rate, keeping time with one small foot. 
Jack stood beside her. She ended with a little 
flourish, and, rising, pirouetted lightly around the 
room, whistling all the while. She made a tam- 
bourine of her small left hand which she struck in 


96 


A Modern Evil 


exact imitation of that instrument with her other, 
performing the while a wild little dance she had 
learned from ‘‘Zillah,’’ which, however, had a 
goodly amount of high kicking in it. She got 
deeper and deeper into its mystic intricacies ; her 
brown eyes were shining like stars — her cheeks 
were flushed, a bright, red spot burned on either 
— her red lips parted in a smile. Jack watched 
her, his chin resting on his breast, an amused 
light in his blue eyes, a broad smile on his lips. 

Zida had caught her white skirt up in her left 
hand, displaying to Venarez’ somewhat astonished 
gaze a pair of delicately rounded and perfectly 
shaped ankles. He opened his eyes a little wider, 
but she heeded it not ; her right hand was pressed 
against the back of her curly, red head ; she gazed 
upward, and kicked through the dance in utter 
abandon, and in exact imitation of “Zillah.” Ven- 
arez stood it as long as he could, and suddenly 
snapping his fingers, he advanced to meet her. 
He caught her left hand in his right, and they 
circled around in a manner exactly similar to 
“Zillah’’ and her quondam paramour. Jack’s 
hand suddenly fell to her waist — he drew her to 
him a little nearer. * * * They paused. He 

looked down into her face for quite a moment 
without speaking. She glanced up into his eyes 
and smiled. 

“Zida,” he said, pressing the hand he held in 
his own, “it was very pretty — the dance. Would 
you have danced it for any other man except 
me?” 

He looked strangely grave as he asked it. Zida 


A Modern Evil 


97 : 

twisted herself from out his grasp with a gay, lit- 
tle laugh. 

“Why certainly !” she answered ; “you are not 
so conceited as all that, I hope?’' 

He did not smile, however. 

“I should not like to think you would,” he said 
very gravely. 

^ ^ Hs 5(s 

The next Thursday morning a very merry 
party boarded the ten o’clock train for the “City 
by the Sea.” There was Mrs. Nevarro and Mrs. 
Van Worth; then Levare and Miss Lillian, look- 
ing as cold and haughty as usual. Earle and 
Eloise came next, while Jack and Zida “brought 
up the rear.” The girls were chatting as gay as 
young sparrows, the men were doing their best 
to appear amiable — the chaperones as pleasantly 
sedate as is becoming in matrons of their age and 
position. Nevarro and Miss Venarez occupied the 
same seat though poor Serrell inwardly swore 
at the fact. It seemed that Eloise was very much 
satisfied with the present state of affairs, he 
thought. Of course, this was a wrong impres- 
sion, but it succeeded in making him decidedly 
miserable. He did not know the woman he had 
to deal with. Her pride was so essentially a part 
of her that she would have preferred death just 
then rather than let him know the exact state of 
her feelings toward him. He and Miss Lillian 
sat opposite the others. Jack and Zida behind 
them. 

“What time will we reach the city?” Lillian 
asked, as they steam along at the rate of fifty 
miles an hour. 


A Modern Evil 


98 

Levare consulted his watch. 

“We are due there at one o’clock.” 

“Three hours,” Eloise said, settling herself 
comfortably back on her seat, while Nevarro cut 
the leaves of a magazine. He was experiencing 
new and varied emotions sitting here beside this 
girl whom he had known so short a time, but had, 
nevertheless, taught him that all women were not 
the shallow, fickle creatures he had deemed 
them. 

It was very well that some new influence had 
entered the young man’s life right at this eventful 
epoch of his existence, for (like most young men, 
who, upon meeting their first great disappoint- 
ment) he had been steadily drifting downward. 
For, while a woman dies of a broken heart, or en- 
ters a convent as a solace for disappointed hopes, 
or unreciprocated affection, a man rushes blindly 
into business, blows his brains out, or goes to the 
bad altogether. 

* * 

The next morning the girls were up early, they 
all being fired with the desire to see the sun rise, 
apparently out of the waves. Eloise, after hastily 
donning a dressing gown, had gone over to the 
window, and throwing open the blinds she cried 
rapturously : 

“Oh ! Do come and see, girls ! Isn’t it glori- 
ous ?” 

“Yes, yes !” Zida said, gazing before her. “Let’s 
dress and have breakfast and go out at once.” 

She turned and hastily proceeded to make her 
toilet, while Eloise and Lillian sat still in the 


A Modern Evil 


99 

window, gazing in rapt admiration at the scene 
before them. 

“Don’t be too sentimental, girls,” came Zida’s 
sharp voice from the other end of the room, 
“there’s plenty of time for that afterwards. Do 
hurry and dress, and let’s go out on the veranda 
before the boys get down.” 

“There! Let me do your hair for you, Lil- 
lian,” she said, crossing over to where that young 
lady is doing her best to fix her flaxen locks be- 
comingly (without any degree of success, how- 
ever) and taking the brush out of her hands. 

“Let me braid it for you, and then I’ll fix it up 
in the style that is so becoming to your special 
type of beauty, and which Serrell admires so 
much.” 

Miss Lillian sat down submissively. She did 
not much fancy the style in which her small 
cousin persisted in “doing” her blonde tresses; 
but, then, she did not know until just now that 
Serrell fancied it, and — that made a difference. 

Why did those words go to Eloise’s heart? 
She had fancied that Serrell was paying a little 
more attention than mere etiquette demanded to 
Miss Lillian lately, and it did really seem so. 
The girl felt for the moment inexpressibly lonely 
and forsaken. She was a little disappointed, and 
her idol had taken a few downward steps. 

“Eloise has put hers up as usual,” said Zida, 
putting the last pin in Lillian’s hair. “Why do 
you wear white so much, Eloise? I can never 
think of you any other way ; and why is your hair 
so thick up next your head, and so thin at the 
ends ?” 


100 


A Modern Evil 


‘‘Don’t know, dear,” Eloise answers, calmly, 
“unless it is because it was cut not so very long 
ago.” 

“Cut?” Zida echoes, in surprise. “Why, when 
did you? and why? Did you have fever? I 
thought it used to be long and thick all the 
way.” 

“Yes,” Eloise said sadly; her eyes were fixed 
in a dreamy expression on the floor. She had 
never told Zida of the sacrifice she had made in 
her last extremity in the long ago. There are 
some things one likes to keep to one’s self. 

“Come !” said Zida, taking her friend’s hand, 
and looking up into her face with a questioning 
look and smile. She had noted the momentary 
expression of sadness on the other’s face, and 
her tender little heart had gone out to her friend 
at once. She did not know the cause of Eloise’s 
abstraction, but she knew what a wretched pov- 
erty-stricken existence she had led before fortune 
had favored her. “Come, let us go down. There 
is the gong for breakfast now.” 

The ladies had breakfasted when the men 
went down, and Serrell ate his in silence, and 
very hurriedly, for he had caught a glimpse of 
Eloise’s white dress out on the veranda. He had 
been unavoidably thrown in Lillian’s society so 
much of late that he was somewhat afraid this 
other girl would think he chose that young lady’s 
society in preference to her own. The thought 
made him ill at ease, for he was honest enough 
to admit to himself that he loved this fair, 
pure girl, with her dark hair and thoughtful blue 
eyes. He had never loved anyone but her, and 


A Modern Evil ioi 

bade fair to love her and her alone to the end. 
He hastily swallowed his coffee, and pushing 
back his chair, arose from the table. 

“Help yourselves, boys,” he said, “as for me 
I’ve finished and am going out on the piazza.” 

“Ah?” grunted Jack. “What’s your hurry, 
old man?” 

Nevarro’s face colored, but he was silent. It 
was quite evident that someone else liked Eloise 
as well as Levare. 

“What are you doing?” Serrell asked, pausing 
at the door. 

“Ah! Good morning,” she said, turning now 
with a smile, while a faint telltale flush over- 
spread her fair face. “You see we are ahead of 
you.” 

“Yes,” he answered, advancing to where she 
stood. “Let’s sit down. I want to talk to 
you.” 

“Do you think I have time ?” she asked, taking 
the seat indicated and looking up into his face 
archly. 

He consulted his watch. 

“Yes; we have plenty of time. It will be ten 
when the morning boat leaves. It is not yet 
nine,” he said, replacing his watch and glancing 
away from her over the blue waves before them. 
She fancied his face looked tired and haggard. 

“Have you been working very hard of late, 
Mr. Levare?” she asked, regarding him sympa- 
thetically. “You are rather pale, are you not?” 

Then he looked at her curiously. 

“Why ‘Mr. Levare ?’ ” he asked quizzically, 
with just the shadow of a smile. 


102 


A Modern Evil 


She colored slightly. To be sure she had 
always called him Serrell. Why not now ? 
Somehow he had changed so wonderfully within 
the last five years. He was not Serrell, the boy, 
now, whom she had known so long ago. Now 
he had an imposing “Hon.” before his name. 

“Excuse me,” she stammered, confusedly. 
“Ell take it back.” 

He smiled. “Please never call me 'Mr.’ again. 
I hear so much of that now it is quite a relief to 
be addressed informally, and,” suddenly, “unless 
you specially request it, I shall not call you 
‘Miss.’ ” 

“No, indeed,” she replied, readily. “I am quite 
as averse to that as you could be to the other.” 

“Then,” he said, “you are quite willing that we 
should lay aside all formality and be as in the 
past?” 

“Yes, yes,” dreamily, “as in the past.” 

The blue waves gently lapped the beach. Two 
small pleasure boats skimmed lightly as swans 
over the water. Suddenly Eloise rose. 

“I must go now. It will be quite time for us 
to leave by the time we are ready. I must look 
the girls up. Haven’t seen them since break- 
fast.” 

Serrell stood up, too. 

“You are in a great hurry to be off. I — I 
have not been with you ten minutes,” he stam- 
mered, trying to say something interesting, hop- 
ing thus to detain her, and failing miserably. 
“Could you not give me a few moments more of 
your society alone?” 

“Not just yet,” she answered, feeling ^ 


A Modern Evil 


103 


wicked little thrill of satisfaction in having it 
within her power to tantalize him a wee bit. But 
it cost her an effort, be it known ; for she would 
have enjoyed those few moments alone, for 
which he pleaded, quite as much as he, had not 
her stubborn pride interfered; and every time 
her heart melted toward him Lillian's face rose 
before her and she hardened again. 

“Good-bye she called back, as she ran lightly 
down the hall and up the stairs, singing as she 
went. A peculiar sensation took possession of 
Levare — a feeling that made his heart beat more 
quickly, and his eyes grew tender. Yes; that 
must be it. He admitted to himself that he loved 
this girl — it must be love, since it was bliss in- 
describable to be with her ; and he had never felt 
that way before. He congratulated himself upon 
his excellent taste, and drawing a cigar from his 
pocket, lighted it, and thrusting his hands into 
his pockets he leaned against a column and lazily 
watched the rings of blue smoke curl upward. 
Far upstairs he could hear Zida's shrill, little 
laugh, and the occasional, subdued conversation 
of the boys in another room, sounding like the 
hum of bees, and ever and anon Jack’s character- 
istic roar. Across the water the dull never ceasing 
noise of the city reached him, and before him 
there loomed the tall spire of grand old St. 
Michael’s. They were going to remain there 
until after Sunday. He would ask Eloise to go 
there to divine services with him. She loved his- 
tory; she could enjoy it, knowing its sacred tra- 
ditions. If he could arrange all that — and then 
take her for a drive afterward, all might be well 


104 


A Modern Evil 


Then his thoughts reverted to Earle. He had 
acted a little suspiciously of late, as though he 
might prove a possible rival, and dwelling a little 
on this thought he realized that jealousy would 
be bitter in proportion as this first love was 
blissful. The shrill whistle of a nearby boat 
broke his reverie, and flinging his cigar from 
him, he walked into the room. Just at this mo- 
ment there was an unusual commotion at the 
head of the stairs, and Zida, in all the glory of a 
white duck outing suit, sailed downstairs, talking 
at the top of her voice. In her wake Eloise and 
Lillian, the latter attired in a style similar to 
Zida, and Eloise in a pale blue sailor suit of 
pique, and both Levare and Nevarro, who came 
out a moment later, decided that they had never 
seen her look half so charming. 

“We’ll just make it,” Jack said, as he stepped 
up beside Zida, looking as handsome as a god in 
his suit of immaculate flannels. 

“Yes,” Zida put in, all in a flurry. “I heard 
the whistle just a moment ago. I wouldn’t be 
left for the world.” 

All our party except Eloise and Serrell went 
over on the upper deck; but they preferring to 
be a little to themselves decided on the lower, 
and sat just as near the water’s edge as possible. 

“How refreshing it is after the dust and heat 
of the city,” Eloise said, as the foamy spray 
dashed itself over them in a cooling cascade. “I 
believe I’ll remain until October. I can’t endure 
the idea of going home so soon. What an in- 
spiration it would be to me when writing!” 
“Have you no pity for the rest of us?” Ser- 


A Modern Evil 


loS 

rell asked, fearing lest she might decide to stay 
so long. 

“Heaven knows it is monotonous enough at 
best ’’ he broke off. 

A change passed over his face. 

“You had better sit a little farther back,” he 
said solicitously; “you will be quite wet; and 
don’t look down at the water constantly; as you 
are not accustomed to it I’m afraid it will make 
you dizzy.” 

She laughed. “I see you think I’m a very poor 
sailor; but I’ll prove to you that such is not the 
case. I wish I could go on and on until I 
reached Europe.” 

“You’d never reach there, then,” he said, “for 
your boat would be upset before you were out 
into the sea.” 

“I’d rather travel than to do anything,” she 
said, gazing far out across the current where the 
ocean and rivers met. The smoke of a north- 
bound steamer was just fading from view. “I 
mean to, too, some day when I feel that I am 
able to afford it.” 

“Yes, so do I,” he said, his eyes following 
hers ; “but if there is anything that does require 
coin and plenty of it, it is globe-trotting. It 
swallows it up like anything.” He turns to her 
suddenly. “Wait until you marry, Eloise, and 
then you can take a tour of Europe. It would 
be better than going alone.” 

With an effort she turned her eyes from his. 
“Please do not talk to me of marrying,” she 
said ; and in her voice there was a ring of disap- 
pointment which he did not quite understand. 


io6 


A Modern Evil 


“I don’t think I shall ever marry. I have an- 
other object in life. All people marry. I want 
to do something else — something better. Get- 
ting married is not the chief end of woman if 
you men do think so.” 

Levare was puzzled. 

“Why, Eloise,” he said at last, “what has 
come over you ? You are talking like a sour old 
maid. Have you met with any great disappoint- 
ment ?” 

“Yes,” she answered mysteriously, “I have 
met a good many.” 

Lillian was to blame again. For a moment 
Levare was silent, while conflicting emotions 
surged over him. Did she, or had she loved in 
vain? The thought was torture. If so, who? 
He could think of no one but Earle, and he felt 
sure disappointment was not hers if he was the 
favored one. He was instantly on his mettle. 

“I see. You want to achieve something un- 
common. You are wooing fame. Well, it might 
be the most satisfying in the end.” 

“You are pleased to be cynical, Serrell,” she 
answered. “I do not want to be called eccentric, 
or do anything that will bring me notoriety, but 
I mean to devote my life to my writing — no ; 
not to the writing of such books as ‘One Wom- 
an’s Life,’ ” smiling, “but to deeper work than 
that. We must all have a start, you know, and 
I am going to beat that in my next. The pro- 
ceeds of my books will go mostly to relieve suf- 
fering humanity. If in the future I have the 
success I have had in the past year — that is, 
with my last book, I can be independently rich 


A Modern Evil 


107 


if I so desire; but I do not crave wealth. It is 
not always the richest people who are the hap- 
piest; indeed, it is more often the reverse. I 
mean to help and encourage people who do not 
thrust themselves upon public charity, but who 
toil on and on from year to year on a pittance 
that barely serves to sustain life. People who 
have talent and no way of bringing it out will 
demand a great share of my money. There are 
quite as many in the usual walks of life striving 
to maintain themselves and families, deserving 
our assistance, as there are to be found in charit- 
able institutions. I want to live a good life, Ser- 
rell. This old world is so hard hearted and cruel 
to the unfortunate. I want to be a help.” 

Levare drew his chair nearer hers. 

“Are you sure, Eloise” he asked gravely, 
“that there is no selfish motive in your wanting 
to act philanthropist? Is it because you really 
do desire to alleviate humanity’s woes for love 
and sympathy’s sake, and not to gain popularity 
and public favor? Mind, I do not doubt you at 
all ; for it takes just such pure, good little wom- 
en as you to show us that love is akin to Heaven. 
But you know, dear, as well as I, that it is so 
seldom any other way.” 

“Yes, Serrell,” she said very earnestly, “but 
believe me when I say that could I do so, I 
would never have any of my charitable deeds 
recorded. It seems to me that when they are, it 
is a kind of reward oifered us, such as an in- 
dulgent parent would offer a child. To see 
your name in the papers! Pshaw i I try to be 


io8 A Modern Evil 

above that. It is nothing to gain public favor. 
Do you remember those lines of De Manrique’s ? 

‘A life of honor and of worth 
Has no eternity on earth, — 

'Tis but a name ?’ ” 

‘‘Yes,” he said, slowly. “You are a good 
girl, Eloise; if you will allow me to speak so 
plainly, and a very uncommon one. Permit me 
to say that the influence of such a woman is 
destined to accomplish incalculable good. I 
must certainly acknowledge the superiority of 
your nature over my own. I, on the other hand, 
have a great care as to what will be thought and 
said of me. A man in my position usually has. 
I would certainly like to be thought famous in 
my profession. I cannot endure to think that 
after I am gone my name will be forgotten. 
Such sordid natures as mine can soar no higher.” 

“We are very different then,” the girl said, 
drawing on her white chamois glove. “After 
death I care not what becomes of my body or 
my name. Let them rest forgotten. Give me 
my portion of life and enjoyment here upon 
earth, and do not stint me of that in order to 
erect a costly marble shaft over my dust when I 
cannot appreciate it.” 

“Well, what's the matter, you two?” Earle 
asks, coming upon the scene at this time. “Been 
talking of the past?” 

“No,” she answered; “we have been talking 
of the future.” 

Nevarro moved his stool near hers. 


A Modern Evil 


109 


“Do you find that so monotonous? Judging 
from your expressions the theme of your con- 
versation must have been anything but a lively 
one/' 

“Yes; sometimes I find it dreadfully so." 

He regarded her a moment silently. 

“Do you know, Miss Venarez, that we are all 
more or less discontented creatures? You will 
find no one perfectly satisfied." 

“Yes," she said, after a moment, gazing 
dreamily ahead of her; “that is true, Til admit, 
but you are an exception surely? You are quite 
content with your lot, are you not?" 

“You see you do not know," he said, in an 
utterly indescribable voice, and looking away 
from her. 

“That is why we so often misjudge others; 
we can see no deeper than the surface. You 
think that I ought to be happy — perhaps I 
should; I have much for which to be thankful; 
but being human I naturally long for a few 
things which I can never hope to possess." 



no 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER IX. 

A VISIT TO THE SEA. 

‘‘Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues, 
Flaunting gaily in the golden light; 

Large desires with most uncertain issues, 

Tender wishes, blossoming at night.’’ 

— Selected. 

Our friends passed near the historic Forts 
Sumter and Moultrie ; and Zida, strangely 
enough, appeared interested. 

“Well, Eloise,” she said, “this alone is worth 
the price of the trip. There is where Jasper re- 
placed the flag during the thickest of the fray. 
He is one of my heroes. Is he not one of 
yours ?” 

“Yes,” she said. Please do not talk to me, 
Zida. There is a feeling too deep for words. I 
always feel it when I am near such places. I 
want to think.” 

Earle was repeating: 

“ Tt was there that Jasper fell 
’Neath that bright Autumnal sky; 

And has a stone been reared to tell 
Where he lay down to die.’ ” 


A Modern Evil 


III 


‘‘That’s just it,” put in Jack. “After all his 
heroic deeds the people of this generation hardly 
know of him. So many brave lives have been 
sacrificed that we might enjoy liberty.’* 

“That quality is about exhausted,” Lillian 
said, smiling up at Serrell. 

“If there should come a war Fm afraid we 
would find fighting rather scarce.” 

“No,” Levare replied thoughtfully; “I be- 
lieve in the old saying, that ‘there are just as 
good fish in the sea as were ever caught.^ It 
would be impossible for such noble men to beget 
such worthless offspring, and I believe that 
should occasion demand it, we would have just 
as gallant volunteers to rally around the old flag 
as there were a hundred years ago.” 

They secured bathing suits, and set out for the 
waves. Zida could find no suit to fit except a 
flaming red, and she made a gay speck among 
the bathers on the shore. After she had seen 
two or three great waves break and recede, much 
to the girl’s chagrin, she signified her intention 
of going back. She didn’.t believe she wanted to 
go in after all. 

“What’s that?” asked Mr. Jack, coming up at 
this moment, and seemingly not at all abashed 
at the shocking amount of legs which his scant 
bathing suit displayed. 

“Zida says she is not going in,” Miss Lillian 
said in an aggrieved tone. 

“Not going in, eh? Well, we’ll see about 
that,” he said, taking one of Zida’s small hands 
as he sees another wave coming. “Take her 
hand, Miss Lillian.” 


A Modern Evil 


fi^ 


“Lillian? Jack? Oh, what are you going to 
do? Throw me in?’’ 

“Not a bit of it,” he said, gently pressing the 
hand he held. “We are going to initiate you in 
the pleasures to be had in old ocean, and take the 
best possible care of you. Now make up your 
mind to take it easy; for if you don’t go in 
quietly I’ll pick you up and carry you in. Come 
along.” 

The frightened girl looked up into the hand- 
some face appealingly, but saw no mercy de- 
picted there. 

“Here she goes!” 

And suiting the action to the word, he and 
Lillian with poor, frightened Zida, tumbled in. 

“Oh, Jack!” she implored, as she saw an- 
other wave coming higher than the first, ‘‘do let 
me run?” 

But Jack took a firmer grasp on the hand he 
held. 

“Keep your mouth closed!” he shouted, and 
they disappeared beneath the wave; only to 
come up a few moments later; and poor Zida, 
who had forgotten herself, and who had 
screamed to Jack to save her just as the wave 
broke over them, was coughing and choking ter- 
ribly. 

“I’ll never speak to you again. Jack Venarez, 
never while I live!” she said. “To think you 
would drag a poor girl who can’t swim a stroke 
into such a place as that! Oh, I’ll never speak 
to you again — never!” 

“That will be death itself,” Jack was heard 
to murmur; “but my dear Zida, are you not 


A Modern Evil 


113 

aware that you are speaking to me now? He 
grew suddenly grave. “I want you to enjoy 
yourself, Zida,” he said. 

“And do you call it enjoying myself to come 
two hundred miles to be strangled to death?” 
she flashes back. “I’ll die!” tragically, “before 
I’ll go in there again.” 

“When you get over your fright, Zida, you 
will thank me for having given you a nice time, 
and you will get over it the very next time I 
take you in!” 

Zida cooled down a bit, and he went on : 

“I wonder if you would have it said that Lil- 
lian and Eloise were braver than you? Why I 
thought you were brave. Now let’s go again,” 
he said. “Why look yonder at Eloise, will you ?” 
suddenly. And Zida follows his gaze and finally 
sees Eloise at the other side, making frantic 
efforts to swim. 

“By Jove 1” cries Jack. “That old girl can do 
anything !” 

Lillian was now with Levare, and Zida and 
Jack were left alone. The next time they were 
washed ashore she was clinging to his arm ut- 
terly and hopelessly, and Jack muttered: 

“Blessed be all waves from henceforth and 
forevermore. Amen.” 

“Well,” Eloise said triumphantly, on her way 
homeward, “I learned to swim.” 

“Really?” Miss Lillian drawled. “I didn’t.” 

“Well, I learned from bitter experience to 
keep my mouth closed,” Zida said. 

The evening passed quickly. The salt breeze 
had risen and blew into the long, open piazza. 


A Modern Evil 


114 

The young people had strolled out upon the 
bead* Miss Lillian and Jack were together for 
a wonder, and she seemed quite interested. She 
was beginning to tolerate the outspoken young 
man, and had it not been for Serrell she might 
have liked him pretty well. Zida and Earle sat 
down on the deep white sand near the water’s 
edge, and she was idly running her fingers 
through it. She was strangely taciturn this 
evening, and Earle, so accustomed to her inces- 
sant chatter, watched her in silence, marveling 
greatly. 

“A penny for your thoughts, dear,” he said, 
after the silence had grown oppressive. 

“Mine?” she asked, with a faint smile. “They 
are not worth it.” She lapsed into silence again ; 
and then said suddenly : 

“Do you remember the compact we entered 
into not so very long ago, Earle?” 

He looked into her face thoughtfully a mo- 
ment. 

“Do you mean the one we made about marry- 
ing each other?” 

“Yes; just that,” in a very low tone. “I have 
grown acquainted with my heart already, and I 
find it isn’t yours, Earle.” 

“No?” he said very tenderly, and taking her 
hand. “Well, little girl, in that case I suppose I 
shall have to give you back your freedom. 
Who is the lucky rascal? I am very sorry.” 

She gave him a searching, mischievous 
glance. 

“That isn't the truth, Earle Nevarro,” she 


A Modern Evil 


115 

said. “You are just as anxious to be free as / 
am, and you know it.” 

Perhaps he was, but Nevarro was too gallant 
to own it. 

Farther on down the beach Eloise and Ser- 
rell were sitting. A pale moon was rising appar- 
ently out of the sea before them. The monoto- 
nous lapping of the waves broke the serene still- 
ness. Serrell was lying on the sand at her feet, 
his elbow propped on the sand and his head rest- 
ing on the hand. The soft, fringe-like curls blew 
coquettishly around Eloise’s fair face. 

“Do you know,” she said, suddenly, “the sea 
makes me think of Tennyson‘s ‘Break, Break, 
Break?’ I believe I know how he felt when he 
was inspired to write that. There is something 
so grand, so majestic about the ocean that it 
makes me sad. The sea and stars alone are a 
convincing proof of a Creator. Do you feel that 
way, too, Serrell?” 

“Yes, to a certain degree. We men cannot ap- 
preciate the beauties of nature like you women 
can. A woman’s soul is more responsive to good. 

A great reverence for this pure girl before 
him had sprung up within his heart; a longing 
to possess her — to be sure of her. Yes ; he was 
in doubt no longer; he loved her with all his 
heart. Life without her would be too barren 
and desolate a thing to imagine. 

“I wonder why Ada Ballette did not come 
down this summer?” asked Eloise, suddenly. 
“Do you know I believe she is disappointed in 
life? She used to enjoy coming so much.” 


A Modern Evil 


ii6 

‘'I am not surprised,” he said at length. *'Ne- 
varro wanted to marry the girl, and I used to 
think she loved him, but somehow she took the 
other. Earle was much the best catch. I guess 
she found that at the last moment she loved Bal- 
lette better, tho’ he had nothing but his salary. 
I have an idea that she would have been far 
happier with Nevarro. He isn’t over it yet, for 
she did encourage and lead him on. I know that ; 
and then cast him off. I think that is one of the 
greatest sins a woman can commit, or a man 
either. You women have great influence over 
men, Eloise,” he said, “you should be careful 
how you wield it. It is not necessary to ask you 
never to be guilty of such an act — such women 
as you never are.” 

Monday,” she said, somewhat sadly, “we 
leave here for the dust of the city again. I am 
sorry to leave. I love the sea, and I’m going to 
live by it some day.” 

“Yes,” he said, a faint smile playing about his 
mouth ; “some day when you are no longer Eloise 
Venarez, I will visit you in your home by the 
sea.” 

“If you know me always,” returned she, “I 
will still be the same. I never expect to change 
my name. I am married to my work.” 

He regarded her intently. 

“And do you think, Eloise,” he returned, “that 
it would interfere with your bright prospects to 
possess the love of a good man ?” 

“No, I think not,” decidedly; “but I think it 
would interfere with them greatly if I should love 
a good man. I have told you, Serrell, that I am 


A Modern Evil 


nZ 

too skeptical to ever allow myself to love any 
man. My ideal is too high. I could not calmly 
accept the universal lot of women. Men are sel- 
dom after marriage what they appear before- 
hand, and disappointment in that direction would 
kill me. No ; my mind is quite made up. I love 
the society of men too well to marry, for that is 
the surest way to be deprived of it. One’s hus- 
band soon becomes such in deed as well as truth, 
and then he finds amusement elsewhere, and then 
his wife is compelled to do without his society 
and that of other men also. No, thank you, I 
have decided to bide as I am, and that to be an 
old maid is my portion. There are worse evils 
than to remain single. I’ll accept such a lot 
gladly, for, as Jack says, T much prefer single 
blessedness to double cussedness.’ I have seen 
too much of our modern marriages to ever take 
upon my shoulders the responsibilities of wife- 
hood.” 

Serrell watched her curiously. 

“You may say that, Eloise,” he returned at 
last, “but you will change your mind some day — 
mark my words — you will change your mind.” 

P 


/ 


A Modern Evil 


ii8 


CHAPTER X. 

SOMETHING NEW. 

‘‘Look at the bright side ! Recount all thy joys ; 

Speak of the mercies that richly surround 
thee : 

Muse not forever on that which annoys, 

Shut not thine eyes to the beauties around 
thee. — Selected 

Thekla's new book, “Influence, ’’ was the theme 
of all conversation. In this effort she had sur- 
passed herself. The title had been approved by 
Levare, and if she never wrote another book this 
alone would have been sufficient to make her 
name famous. She was sitting in her boudoir 
to-night before a blazing fire. It was the twenty- 
third of December and bitterly cold. It was 
nearly eight, and she was going to witness the 
drama, “Influence,” taken from her book, and 
she felt a trifle nervous about it. 

“Tell Mr. Nevarro I will be down in a mo- 
ment,” she called. 

She took her opera cloak from a chair and 
made her way to the drawing room. 

Nevarro rose to greet her. 

“Ah! Punctual to a moment!” he said, smil- 
ing. “Let us go now. I want to see every act. 


A Modern Evil 


119 

The people are wild over your book, and you 
need not be surprised if you receive an ovation 
to-night. The theatre will be packed with peo- 
ple anxious to see just what sort of a person 
Thekla’ is.’’ 

“Well, I hope they will not be disappointed,” 
she said, as she took his arm and they went 
down the steps. He hands her into the carriage 
and takes his place beside her, and they are 
rapidly whirled away. 

Eloise was conscious of doing Nevarro an in- 
justice; yet how could she prevent it? Why was 
it, she asked herself with bitter resentment, that 
Serrell could not have been the one to enjoy this 
“social triumph” with her instead of Nevarro? 
She had hoped that he would ask her to go with 
him to-night, but instead, he had taken Lillian, 
as usual. He seemed to favor Nevarro’s being 
constantly with her, she mused rebelliously. 
Well, since he didn’t care, she concluded to be 
especially nice to Nevarro from henceforth, to be 
even; for she was quite determined to “die 
game,” whatever the cost. Eloise had good 
blood in her veins. She suddenly became aware 
that her companion was talking. 

“Would you believe it?” he was saying. “It is 
snowing right along. Zida was wishing only 
this afternoon that it would snow to-night, so we 
could go from Charleston to Gray Turrets in a 
sleigh, and I believe her wish is to be gratified. 
Have you made all necessary preparations?” 

“Yes, I will be quite ready by to-morrow,” she 
replied. “I am delighted with the idea of going. 
Just think, we will spend a week at that dear old 


120 


A Modern Evil 


place ! Zida showed me a picture of it yesterday 
and I am charmed.” 

There was a moment’s silence. 

‘‘Do you hear from Ada now?” Nevarro pres- 
ently asked, as they are nearing their destina- 
tion. 

“I have had but one letter since she went 
away,” she answered. “I cannot understand 
why she has not written me oftener. She has 
been gone a month now.” 

“I don’t know how true it is,” Earle said, “but 
it is rumored that she has gone to Atlanta to 
enter suit for divorce.” 

Eloise was stupefied. 

“No, Earle,” she said, in a shocked voice, 
''surely not? It isn’t possible.” 

“Nevertheless there must be something to it,” 
he replied; “for it is in everybody’s mouth, and 
you know the old saying: ‘Where there is so 
much smoke.’ She left here ostensibly to visit 
her aunt, but Ballette has disappeared, too, and 
it’s certain he is not with his wife, and now that 
they are gone everybody says that they lived 
miserably, and that they mutually agreed to 
separate. I don’t know why, but I have always 
expected this. They were everything but con- 
genial, and Ballette has such an ungovernable 
temper.” 

Eloise was too dumbfounded to speak. 

“We are not very much accustomed to this 
down South, you know,” he went on, “and every- 
one is shocked at this unexpected denouement of 
what was considered the most beautiful and fit- 
ting marriage of the season. It is a very un- 


A Modern Evil 


t2i 

wise decision for Ada. She has not enough bal- 
last to successfully and honorably follow the 
course she has chosen. I do not believe in 
divorce. You writers are want to prate of the 
evils of ruin and social intemperance generally, 
while you blindly close your eyes to the fact that 
an evil of far greater magnitude than any of 
these is moving thousands strong, shielded by 
the best society, and allowed by law. Why 
don’t you fight that? We harp on the lesser 
evils, and close our eyes and sleep while this 
foe to moral purity steals the life blood of our 
common and domestic happiness. This is a 
wide field for you young novelists. Cease wast- 
ing your time in writing of the heroic and impos- 
sible achievements and heroes and heroines who 
never existed and fight this socially tolerated 
monster, which, unless trampled under foot, will 
eventually succeed in making of our country the 
home of moral and social degradation. There is 
nothing more corrupt and immoral than our mod- 
ern society, and the young man or woman who 
constantly withstands its temptations is a won- 
der.” 

By this time they were at the theatre, and a 
hundred brilliant lights flashed from the win- 
dows and fell across the pavement. The or- 
chestra was playing one of those “catchy” airs 
that appeal to us instantly, as on the arm of 
Nevarro Eloise went up the long flight of granite 
steps. The lights fell upon her face, and Earle 
looking down at that moment felt a pardonable 
pride in being fortunate enough to be with her. 
They were a striking couple, and many eyes fol- 


122 


A Modern Evil 


lowed them admiringly as they passed through 
the ante-room to the scene of the play, and 
Eloise, remembering a certain remark of Ne- 
varro’s, experienced a somewhat weak and 
thrilling sensation, for as Earle had hinted, and 
she herself had secretly feared, no sooner had 
they entered the room than someone near had 
recognized her and immediately set up a loud 
hand-clapping. This was accepted as the signal, 
and then someone near the stage stood up and 
said : 

“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me the pleasure 
of introducing to you Miss Eloise Venarez, alias 
‘Inekla,’ the gifted author of the book Tn- 
fluence,’ which we have dramatized and will pre- 
sent to you to-night. The young woman who 
with her pen has done more for humanity than 
has any other writer for half a century.” 

The audience rose en masse, and the theatre 
thundered with applause. Eloise bowed and 
smiled in a dazed sort of way. She caught sight 
of Zida’s radiant face, then she saw Serrell and 
Lillian, and despite her timidity she felt a thrill 
of triumph. Scores of glasses were turned 
upon her. As in a dream she heard Earle thank- 
ing the audience in a few well selected words 
in her behalf, and then they applauded again. 
Earle could always be depended upon to say and 
do the proper thing at the proper moment. And 
then amid a shower of flowers she was allowed 
to enter her box. 

“I can’t endure this,” she whispered to Ne- 
varro, after they are safe behind the curtain. “I 
felt as though I should sink through the floor. 


A Modern Evil 


123 


Of all things I dislike publicity most. I never 
thought of this when I gave my permission to the 
thing. Why didn't you tell me?" 

She looked so utterly surprised and crest- 
fallen that Nevarro laughed. 

“We Southerners never do anything by halves," 
he said at last. 

The play was a tremendous success, as every- 
one had predicted, for in spite of its sober and 
somewhat discouraging title, the book contained 
some very amusing characters and situations 
which took the audience by storm, and Eloise felt 
amply repaid for all her loss of sleep and un- 
tiring energy which she had spent upon the book. 
Two hours later they were driven home under 
the pale light of the stars, and she exulted 
secretly when she remembered that once or twice 
during the play, when she glanced across in Le- 
vare's direction, he had been watching her with 
an expression that revealed much of what he was 
experiencing at that time. The next day, after a 
three hours' journey, they reached Charleston 
about sunset, and after a short while succeeded 
in procuring sleighs, in which they started off 
for Gray Turrets, twelve miles away. It was a 
jolly party, despite the fact that the mercury was 
standing at 20 degrees below freezing point ; and 
as they skimmed along Zida's merry little laugh 
rang out on the clear, crisp air. It takes a good 
deal to dampen the enthusiasm of a pretty, fun- 
loving girl of nineteen with the anticipation of a 
jolly time just ahead. 

Jack was evidently making himself pretty in- 
teresting. They were really sorry when the 


124 A Modern Evil 

manse loomed just ahead and they were at their 
journey’s end. 

“My! But isn’t this fine weather?” Nevarro 
says, as they all go up the steps and hurry into 
the room where a bright fire is burning and 
crackling in the great wide fireplace. “It’s the 
coldest spell we’ve had in ten years, and it will 
be fine fun on the lake to-night.” 

“Yes, the snow is six inches deep on a level,” 
Zida says, “and it’s a fine thing we didn’t have to 
walk far in it,” sticking out one small shoe to the 
fire, “our feet would have been frozen.” 

The good Mrs. McDonald bustled around 
making things comfortable. 

“Well, this fire is grateful,” Nevarro says, un- 
buttoning his faultlessly fitting overcoat, “it 
would thaw an iceberg in ten minutes.” 

At supper Earle said suddenly : “I have a 
paper in my pocket which confirms the report we 
all heard concerning Ballette and his wife.” 

“What?” Zida and Lillian exclaimed. “You 
don’t mean it, Earle Nevarro?” 

“Yes, but I do, though,” he said. 

“Well, if that isn’t the — the mischief!” Zida 
said. She came near using another expression, 
but her mother’s near presence prevented. 

“What a disgrace !” Mrs. Van said, holding up 
her hands in horror. 

“And she has been married such a short time,” 
added Mrs. Nevarro. “It is such a blow to her 
aunt’s pride. My, my! This is really very 
sad!”^ 

Eloise was quite silent. 

Levare cleared his throat 


A Modern Evil 


“When I first entered upon my professional 
career/' he said, “I looked upon divorce as abso- 
lutely immoral. But the longer I live and the 
more of life I see the more clearly am I con- 
vinced that such a course is necessary in order to 
save fickle humanity untold misery and unhappi- 
ness. We have heard that it takes years to cement 
a friendship, but months, weeks, and even days, 
are often sufficient to fit persons for the holier 
state of matrimony. If we were more than human 
there would be no need for such a provision, but 
as such is not the case we are just as liable to 
make a mistake in this great life-transaction as in 
anything else. As women and men are usually 
artificial toward each other before marriage, they 
never really know each other until afterward, and 
often this knowledge of each other's character is 
a revelation. Although our native state does not 
under any circumstances grant divorce, I can- 
not agree that this law is an altogether wise and 
justifiable one. If in every-day transactions we 
make a bargain which is apparently fair, and find 
afterwards that we have been duped, it is deemed 
proper that the parties are free to ‘rue back,' for 
we can never be compelled to keep anything 
which we have obtained under false pretense. I 
do not think that God joins all married people to- 
gether, though" — glancing at Earle — “I believe 
it was you who said thab a man never got the 
woman who was not intended for him unless he 
got another man's wife?" 

But Earle answered: 

“I don’t know so much about that; but I don’t 
hold with divorce, and this state’s laws along 


126 


A Modern Evil 


that line suit me exactly. If I marry unwisely I 
will compel my wife to live with me. And this 
plural divorce business is a reflection on modern 
civilization ; it is damning. Its recognition tends 
to lower man’s estimate of the sacredness of the 
marriage relation, and causes him to improperly 
consider the binding obligations. It should not 
be tolerated.” 

^‘Down South,” Levare says, “to be known as 
a ‘grass widow’ or widower, as the case may be, 
is equivalent to disgrace. Pitiable, indeed, is the 
lot of the man or woman who has to live out the 
remainder of their lives under this most unde- 
sirable appellation. It is an unnatural state of 
existence and must necessarily result in unhappi- 
ness. Too often do we find it the case, where the 
man or woman after being deceived in husband 
or wife lose confidence in their sex forever; and 
the aspirations of such a person are not apt to 
soar very high. It is a humiliation which no 
woman should tolerate, to be forced to bear 
through life the name of the man whose indif- 
ference or neglect has caused her to abhor him. 
To live together when the spark of love has died, 
merely for the sake of appearances — through a 
mistaken view of public opinion — is a disgrace to 
the marriage relation and a mockery to God. 
What can we expect from the offspring of such a 
union? Then would it not be better for all par- 
ties concerned, better for society, if the innocent 
party can find one whom they can respect and 
love and enjoy the blessings of a happy home? 
Because a man or woman happens to marry one 
with whom happiness is impossible it does not 


A Modern Evil 


127 


signify that their case is hopeless — that they are 
utterly untractable. The same person might 
make a second choice and enjoy life. We have 
but one life to live, and no amount of public esti- 
mation can repay us for a life of unhappiness.” 

They rose from the table and passed through 
the hall to the sitting-room, and a moment later 
the girls had donned their jackets and gloves pre- 
paratory to going to the lake. Jack was in a 
jolly, rollicking mood to-night as he drew on his 
overcoat and stood for a moment beside Zida, 
waiting for her to adjust her turban. 

“What is the matter with you?” she asked, 
suddenly, looking up into his face. “Haven’t you 
had a drop too much. Jack? and do you think 
you can skate to-night without being in moment- 
ary danger of breaking your neck?” 

“Yes, me darlint,” taking her arm and going 
down the steps with her. “I always manage to 
stay on top of my feet. Have no fear ; they’re big 
enough to hold me up.” 

It was only a few hundred yards to the lake. 
Earle and Eloise were in the lead, and Lillian and 
Levare next. Like a black, shapeless apparition 
followed John Stark (Mrs. Van’s groom), carry- 
ing an armful of skates. Andrew McDonald, the 
old Scotchman, had gone on ahead to make things 
comfortable before the young people should ar- 
rive. The lake was already dotted over with en- 
thusiastic skaters from the city. An immense 
fire burned in the fireplace of the Inn. 

“Come!” Nevarro says, as he buckles on his 
skates. “We are missing it all.’^ 

They swung off down the ice-covered pond as 


128 


A Modern Evil 


gracefully as two young swallows. Levare 
watched them a moment; then taking Lillian's 
hands in his own they started out in pursuit. 
Nevarro was an excellent skater, in fact he was 
in the lead in anything in which grace and gal- 
lantry were the necessary requisites, and Serrell, 
watching him, wondered what chance a man like 
himself could have against such a rival. How 
could he blame Eloise if she did love Nevarro? 
He was just the type of man to whom women 
usually lose their hearts. He didn’t blame her, 
for he couldn’t blame her for anything she did, 
but nevertheless he admitted to himself that if 
such were the case he himself would feel it pretty 
keenly. Once in passing Eloise’s scarf became 
loosened and caught on Serrell’s arm. He 
pressed the bright bit of merino to him, but in 
her swift, mad gallop she heeded it not. After a 
time they all started out for the Inn, whose hos- 
pitable doors were thrown wide open to admit 
the gay throng that went surging in. The jolly 
old McDonald, seated beside the roaring fire, put 
his fine old violin to his shoulder and drew the 
bow across its strings. 

Nevarro turned to Eloise. 

“Have you not yet changed your mind about 
waltzing?” he asked. “Please do,” earnestly, 
“for this once, won’t you?” 

“No,” she answered, shaking her pretty head 
decisively ; “no. I’m quite as firm as ever on that 
point.” 

“It is mere prejudice, Miss Venarez,” he said, 
disappointedly. “I think you might give under 
for this time.” 


A Modern Evil 


129 

‘‘Please don't insist,” she said. ‘‘I really don’t 
care to waltz.” 

The old violinist had struck out on one of those 
old, half-forgotten waltz tunes which our mothers 
loved so well, and which, in spite of time, appeal 
to us just as strongly now as they did to them 
years ago. 

Zida and Jack were whirling about the room 
in the giddy mazes of the waltz. She was look- 
ing very winning in her skating habit of dark 
blue velvet, with its trimmings of ermine. Jack 
was proving the veracity of his statement: “that 
he was able to stay on his feet.” He was enjoy- 
ing himself so immensely that it really did one 
good to watch him. Lillian, with a bright, happy 
smile on her pretty face, was waltzing with Le- 
vare. 

Eloise watched them with an uncalled-for feel- 
ing of resentment in her heart. For the first time 
in her life she found herself wishing that Lillian 
were out of the way. She wished Earle would 
find someone else to talk to; she did not care to 
dance at all. Contrary to her wishes that young 
man took a seat beside her, saying as he did so : 

“Then if you will allow me, I will sit this out 
with you? I prefer talking to you rather than 
dancing with anyone else.” 

Eloise was too deeply absorbed with her own 
bitter reflection to reply to this gallant speech. 

“What is the matter?” he asked. “What are 
you thinking about?” 

“Oh, this, that and the other !” she said laugh- 
ing a little. “I couldn’t tell what I was thinking 


130 A Modern Evil 

of. For one thing I believe I was thinking I am 
tired.” 

“Which means, I suppose, that you would 
rather I would go on about my business and 
leave you alone ?” 

“Oh, no ; I didn’t say that,” indifferently. 

He looked at her and smiled. 

“But you meant it. I am very sorry,” was his 
truthful assertion. “I wanted to ask you to dance 
the next cotillion with me — the one after this.” 

“Well,” she said, hoping that in the meantime 
Serrell might come to her a moment; “I will be 
ready to dance then, perhaps. I want to rest 
now.” 

He thanked her and went off in quest of an- 
other partner. He soon succeeded, however, for 
presently he appeared with a beautiful girl whom 
she had seen several times, but did not know. 
At the same time Levare made his way toward 
her. Eloise raised her eyes to his as he ap- 
proached. The blood rushed to her fair face, and 
then receded, leaving her paler than before. She 
lowered her eyes, for she felt that he must read 
her secret. A second later he stood before her. 

“If it is not too cold, Eloise,” he said, “do you 
mind walking out on the piazza with me ?” 

The girl rose silently and slipped her hand into 
his arm. 

What was the cold to her ? She had hoped for 
this moment and now it had come. They passed 
down the length of the room and out into the 
veranda. Levare drew the gloved hand further 
within his arm. Nevarro’s gaze followed them 


A Modern EviL 


i3r 

and a peculiar light shone in his eyes as they 
passed out of the room. 

“Allow me to restore this to you,” Serrell said, 
drawing the scarf from his pocket and placing it 
around her shoulders. “You might take cold.” 

Silence a moment. 

“Do you remember I told you this evening that 
I wanted to speak to you, Eloise ?” he began, sud- 
denly. “It seemed that the Fates were against 
me. If you will listen I will tell you how a cer-, 
tain dear little woman has found her way to my 
heart — how I have been loving her for years and 
could hardly realize it. But now I am certain 
that I love her better than life, better than I can 
express, for words are such feeble, useless things 
when we try to discuss this passion which we 
know as Love.” 

Eloise had withdrawn her hand from his arm 
and was looking out across the lake. She did not 
notice this little action, which to poor Serrell 
meant so much. She realized that this was the 
supreme moment of her life and she was uncon- 
scious of all else. Levare accepted this involun- 
tary movement of hers as a sign that it was use- 
less for him to proceed. He was seized by a sud- 
den vertigo, and leaning against the wall and 
taking both her hands within his own he said : 

“Am I too late, Eloise ? Is it then as I feared ? 
I had hoped ” 

He broke off, unable to proceed, and looked in- 
tently into her face. A sudden wave of bitter 
feeling — terrible — unbearable in its intensity, 
swept over his soul. 

“Why, Eloise, you are crying!” he said ten- 


132 


A Modern Evil 


derly, roused into speech by the sight of tears in 
the eyes of the woman he loved best on earth, 
“What is it? Hush, dear! I will not force you 
to listen to me if it causes you pain. I wanted 
to explain something to you ; something that con- 
cerns Lillian and myself.” 

Then that was it! Eloise felt nervous and 
weak as from illness. She raised her eyes to his ; 
she had not been able to do so until now. But 
what need she care. His confession did not con- 
cern herself at all. It was Lillian all along, and 
he merely thought that as an old and true friend 
she would be interested. He had never loved her, 
and her life had built upon that hope. In that 
bitter moment the question arose to her : “He has 
never loved m.e; merciful heaven, how to en- 
dure ?” He noticed the tense, drawn lines around 
her sweet mouth and mistook them for pity. In 
bitterness of spirit he spoke : 

“I had feared this, Eloise, and yet I cherished 
that hope.” 

“But she loves you, Serrell,” the sweet voice 
broke in, forgetting her own despair at what she 
imagined to be an expression of his disappoint- 
ment. “Can you not see how much ? There is no 
need to be so sad. What has come over you. You 
were not always so. I remember you long ago as 
appearing quite satisfied, almost happy.” 

He swallowed almost audibly. Ah! she had 
touched him to the quick then ! The memory of 
happier moments when suddenly recalled are 
sometimes more than we can bear. He mased 
bitterly that in the days to which she referred 
hope had not died out of his heart. 


A Modern Evil 


133 


'‘She loves you so much, so much,” she went 
on, trying to bring a different expression into his 
face. 

“Lillian is a sweet girl. I wish you all happi- 
ness and congratulate you with all my heart.” 

Lillian? Good God! Was it possible that she 
believed that? 

“A great sorrow has come into my life within 
the last few months,” he said, and his voice 
sounded far away. 

She raised her clear eyes to his. 

“I couldn’t understand, could I, Serrell? 
Would you mind telling me ? Sometimes sorrows 
are more endurable when confided to another, you 
know.” 

His deep voice shook. “No,” he answered, 
hopelessly; “this would be beyond your compre- 
hension.” 

The music inside had passed into a minor key ; 
its sweet, plaintive notes had something human in 
their despair. Perhaps the white haired violinist 
was putting something of his past, which the 
scenes before him recalled, into its melody. It 
touched Eloise’s heart like an echo of her ruined 
life. 

“So you have changed your mind as to remain- 
ing single all your life ?” he said, pressing gently 
the hand he held. “You remember I predicted 
you would. You needn’t mind telling me, dear,” 
sadly, “for I’m the best friend you have on 
earth to-night. There ! do not weep,” as two big 
tears roll down her cheeks. “No one wishes you 
more happiness than I, and Nevarro is a good 
fellow,” 


134 


A Modern Evil 


He gazed tenderly down into her eyes, em- 
phasizing his words with a gentle pressure on her 
hand, though the bitterness of death lay at his 
heart. He had allowed himself to think of her as 
an integral part of his future life many times. It 
had become the one vital hope of his existence, 
and now it was over ! He seemed to have reached 
a sudden blank in his life beyond which he could 
not see. 

There was silence between them for one brief, 
bitter moment. 

“Eloise,” he said, suddenly, ‘'no matter how 
far our pathways may lie apart in the future, re- 
member me as one who would sacrifice his life to 
serve you.” 

He placed his hand upon her dark hair. 

“You deserve a good husband, Eloise, and I 
think he will prove such to you, and may heaven 
so deal with Earle Nevarro as he deals with 
you.” 

She seemed to have lost the power of speech, 
and he went on : 

“In after years, when you are happy in an- 
other man’s love, shedding your noble influence 
over his home and heart, remember with tender 
compassion the one who could never be anything 
nearer to you than a friend.” 

The truth flashed suddenly upon Eloise. He 
believed her to be in love with Earle. Perhaps 
that was why he did not declare himself to her. 
If it was otherwise why, if he loved Lillian, did 
he appear so melancholy always? 

“Let me explain ” she began, feeling in- 
describable. “I — there has been a mistake -” 


A Modern Evil 


135 


But just here Nevarro came upon the scene. 

“This is our dance, Miss Venarez,” he said, 
somewhat formally, “if you mean to keep your 
promise ?” 

Levare had turned away with a scarcely per- 
ceptible bow as he came up, and walked off down 
the veranda. Yes, it must be true, he reasoned, or 
else why did Nevarro so persistently follow her? 
And what right had he to address her in that 
dictatorial manner if it were otherwise? 

Eloise accepted Nevarro’s proffered arm. 

“Yes, certainly I mean to dance it.” 


f 


136 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER XL 

A SOUTHERN DEER HUNT. 

Eloise was delighted with the grand old place. 
She was not satisfied until she had been in every 
room and closet in the house. It had been quite 
late when they retired and during the night the 
temperature had risen somewhat, a condition 
which they all hailed with joy, for there was a 
deer hunt in projection for to-morrow. Eloise 
rose early, and without waiting for her compan- 
ions, dressed hurriedly, and donning her jacket, 
she slipped quietly downstairs. Mrs. McDonald 
was already up. She looked up in surprise as 
Eloise paused at the door. ^ 

“Merry Christmas !” the girl called quickly. 

“Why, where are ye gang sae sune, young 
leddy?” the good woman ejaculates, looking up 
from her work in astonishment. “There’s nae 
ane up but me and the servants.” 

“Yes, I know,” the girl answered. “Please 
don’t tell anyone I am gone, auntie, I want to go 
to the stables, and to the kennel. You know I 
didn’t get to see the horses and dogs last night, 
and I’m a dear lover of both. I’ll be back in a 
little while.” 

She made her away across the yard and to th« 
stables. One beautiful black creature stood look- 


A Modern Evil 


137 

ing through the glass as she approached and 
whined familiarly. 

“Oh, you beauty!” she cried rapturously, put- 
ting her face against the pane. “You think I’ve 
brought your breakfast, don’t you? I’m very 
sorry, but I haven’t a thing for you. I hope you’ll 
be the one I’ll ride to-day, old boy.” 

Then as all the horses began trying to tell her 
how badly they wanted their Christmas breakfast, 
she turned hurriedly away, with a look of appre- 
hension toward the windows of the manse. 

“I think I’d better go before I’m discovered.” 

She passed on to the kennel and made friends 
with the dogs, a pack of fine hounds who met her 
at the door eagerly, evidently of the same impres- 
sion of which the horses had been. She looked 
up again at the windows of the huge gray stone 
structure to ascertain if the inmates were yet 
astir, but seeing no signs of life she set out. In 
front of her there loomed the dark, picturesque 
forest of huge cypresses and water oaks. A row 
of the former grew on either side of the drive up 
to the very doors. To the left, as far as she could 
see, stretched a level plain. This, she had been 
told, was in summer a waving mass of growing 
rice. In a long, narrow street behind the house 
ran two rows of small huts, which had been built 
in ante-bellum days, and which, the girl thought, 
could they but speak, would tell many a tale con- 
cerning a generation and epoch now passing 
away. The rows of water-oaks extended far be- 
yond these huts. Negroes lived in them still, who 
were employed by the young master of Gray Tur- 
rets to labor in those fields of rice and make them- 


A Modern Evil 


138 

selves generally useful. A smile came to the 
girl’s lips as the words of an old, old love song 
occurred to her : 

‘‘And all of this, fair lady, may be thine.*' 

Yes, she realized that. It could be all her own 
if she so willed it — this picturesque and grand old 
relic of a past generation, these vast fields, that 
romantic dark forest — those magnificent horses — 
all could be hers at a word. She mused and the 
smile lingered on her mouth, for a woman enjoys 
nothing so much as the knowledge of her own 
power. 

Eloise entered just as the bell for breakfast 
sounded. The} met her at the dining-room door. 

“We are waiting for you,” Earle said, smiling 
down at her and conducting her to a seat. 

It was a jolly repast, at the conclusion of which 
Earle rose and proposed a toast to the ladies, 
which was drunk with relish. Then Jack poised 
his glass and said: 

“Here’s to the hunt of to-day and may it be a 
howling success.” 

That was drunk also, and then Nevarro an- 
nounced that the season’s gifts had been sent into 
the sitting-room and that they would go thither 
and inspect. 

Eloise found that Nevarro’s gift to herself was 
a pearl and gold writing pen, filagree silver and 
cut glass inkstand, and a daintily set birthstone 
ring. 

“I cannot thank you sufficiently,” she said to 
Nevarro, as she slipped the pretty ring on her 


A Modern Evil 


139 

white finger. “It is lovely of you. I really can- 
not adequately thank you.” 

“You have done so already,” he replied in a low 
tone. 

Serrell’s card was attached to an exquisite vol- 
ume of vellum-bound, gold-lettered “Poems of 
Passion,” and others from all the party too numer- 
ous to mention. Miss Lillian and Zida, too, had 
been handsomely remembered, and the latter was 
rejoicing greatly in the possession of a Roman 
gold bracelet, studded with moonstones, and 
which had her name and the date engraved in- 
side in old English. It completed her set, she 
said. 

After many exclamations of surprise and pleas- 
ure they laid their numerous and pretty baubles 
aside, and began hurriedly arranging themselves 
in their riding habits, for they were to start early. 
A moment later they came down all a-flutter with 
excitement, to find the boys quite ready, gorgeous 
in the matter of buckskin leggins and hunting 
jackets. Eloise stood at the top of the broad, 
granite steps, her dark blue habit caught up in 
one small gauntleted hand. In the other she car- 
ried a tiny silver-mounted riding whip. John 
Stark led the horses out. They were already 
saddled, and the one that Eloise had fancied so 
that very morning stood tethered to the rack — a 
regular racer, his long, lithe body shining in the 
morning sun like black satin. Earle went to the 
kennel and opened the door. Instantly the pack 
of magnificent hounds surrounded him, all whin- 
ing familiarly, and leaping upon their young mas- 
ter's shoulders in joyful recognition. They 


140 


A Modern Evil 


seemed to realize that this thing happened but 
once a year, and with a glad barking they ran 
over the grounds, smelling the earth as they went. 
They as well as the horses seemed wild with an- 
ticipation. Lillian and Zida were already 
nounted. Zida on a magnificent gray that pranced 
restlessly, and threw its fine head up and down, 
eager to be off. Miss Lillian rode the gentlest 
horse of all — a meek-eyed chestnut mare, which 
her father had ridden fifteen years before. In 
fact she would rather not have gone at all, for 
she was afraid of horses and did not anticipate 
much pleasure in the hunt. But it would never 
do to remain behind, and Serrell was going, and 
that young man’s presence had become very 
necessary to Lillian’s peace of mind. As for 
Eloise, poor child ! She had hardly slept a wink 
the night before. She had lain awake and tried 
to think of a way to explain matters to Levare, 
for she found herself in a very unpleasant and 
embarrassing situation. Earle assisted Eloise to 
mount, and then vaulting into his saddle he blew 
the horn he carried (relic of other days) and 
amid a tumultuous barking they started off. Mrs. 
Van and Nevarro stood leaning against one of the 
huge granite columns, watching them off, the 
faint December sun falling across their faces. 
The crowd of blacks had come around to witness 
the off-start, too — gay in red bandannas and 
brightly hued linsey frocks. Old Aunt Dinah, 
seventy, if a day, stood watching as the merry 
party started off amid the loud blowing of the 
horn and the deep baying of a score of hounds 
who ran ahead singly, their noses to the ground. 


A Modern Evil 


141 

“La ! But dat do bring back de ole times she 
exclaimed. “It’s menny a yere since ole Dinah 
see sech a sight afore. Young master and a 
crowd o’ young genmens useter hunt in dem 
woods forty yere ago.” 

Mrs. Van and Nevarro went slowly back into 
the house. A dreamily sad expression was in the 
former’s eyes. 

“Do you remember, Mildred,” she asks, as the>' 
stand before the great cypress fire, “how happy 
we used to be years ago when we were starting 
off on a trip like that? Age,” sadly, “takes the 
sweetness out of everything.” 

Our party rode on. The hounds were on the 
scent, as their peculiar, long-drawn barking be- 
tokened. They circled around and passed quite 
near the hunters, and then in a long unbroken line 
they went on, and their deep barking grew gradu- 
ally indistinct. 

“Come!” Earle called, blowing the horn he 
carried and touching up his horse, which started 
off in a swinging gallop. “We must keep up with 
them. They’re on the wind now. Keep your 
eyes open !” 

They dashed off into the forest at breakneck 
speed, Eloise and Earle in the lead. Jack and 
Zida came next, and Lillian and Serrell brought 
up the rear. The baying came nearer. A glimpse 
of something — a slim, dun-colored creature, hotly 
pursued, fleeing for its very life, passed meteor- 
like a few yards from them. 

“Look out there!” Earle called, and instantly 
three quick loud reports rang out. There was a 
moment of eager, breath-suspended expectation. 


142 


A Modern Evil 


But when the smoke cleared no beautiful inani- 
mate creature lay before them. There was an 
ejaculation of surprise, and then they set off 
again. Then for it! Through thick and thin, 
over brush, across ditches they went. The chase 
had become madly exciting, that is — it had with 
Nevarro, who was a born sportsman, and who for 
the time being forgot all else beside. But another 
thought was uppermost in Levare’s mind that was 
of vastly more interest than deer hunting. Ne- 
varro spurred his horse and touched with his whip 
the one Eloise rode, and cheering the dogs on- 
ward at the top of his voice they pursued. Some- 
how they became divided. Perhaps Providence 
took a hand in affairs just then. I don’t know. 
Anyway, a few seconds later Eloise found herself 
riding beside Serrell. The others had gone on. 

“Aren’t you a little tired?” he asked, reining 
up his horse. “Let’s drop behind a little.” 

“I am tired,” she said, “I was so afraid I 
wouldn’t see you to-day,” coloring slightly, yet 
quite determined. “I wanted to explain matters 
to you a little, Serrell,” looking up beseechingly, 
and meeting his dark eyes fixed upon her face. 
“I wanted to tell you,” she went on, “that you 
didn’t understand me last night. I am not en- 
gaged to Earle nor to anyone else. I have never 
had an opportunity of accepting him, and if I 
had it would be all the same.” 

Then fearful lest she should commit herself : “I 
don’t want to be engaged to anybody. Pm quite 
satisfied as I am.” 

Now Eliose knew, as we know, that she was 
Uttering a falsehood, but she was afraid that Ser- 


A Modern Evil 


143 

fell might take this as a suggestion, and oh ! she 
could never endure that! 

He regarded her a moment incredulously. 

"‘Eloise,” he said very seriously, “I could not 
believe it, even though I feared ” 

“Look out there !” came Earle’s cautioning re- 
minder. Just then he was somewhere near, 
though hidden — and just before them, trembling 
in every nerve, the beautiful doe stood at bay. 

Levare raised his rifle to his shoulder. 

“Don’t shoot the beautiful thing, Serrell !” the 
girl pleaded, laying her hand over his. “See how 
frightened it is ! To kill it would be cruel. Spare 
it for my sake!” 

He dropped his gun quickly. 

“Yes,” he said. “You’re a big-hearted, gener- 
ous little woman, Eloise. You’d spare anything 
pain, I believe, even a dog; and yet — if you only 
knew how you had caused me to suffer — dear lit- 
tle woman,” tenderly, “you would pity me ” 

And just at this juncture the whole party rode 
up. 

* * * 

Our friends had to give up the chase for that 
day, and it was quite two o’clock when they 
emerged from the forest, somewhat crestfallen, 
perhaps, for Earle exclaimed : 

“Well, that beats the record ! I saw that animal 
twice and shot at it both times and never touched 
it. Didn’t you see it after we left you, Le- 
vare ?” 

“No,” Serrell said, while he looks at Eloise 
mischievously. 


144 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER XII. 

A TURNING POINT. 

‘‘Well have I seen that castle, 

That castle by the sea, 

And the moon above it standing. 

And the mists rise solemnly. 

The winds and the waves of ocean. 

Had they a merry chime? 

Did’st thou hear from those lofty chambers. 
The harp and the minstrel’s rhyme ?” 

It was quite nine o’clock. Already the guests 
had begun to arrive from the city. In the west 
wing the young ladies were arraying themselves 
for the dance. It had been previously understood 
that the men were to go en masque, but were not 
to represent any character. The young ladies 
were to assume fancy costumes of their own 
selection. They thought it would be so much 
more interesting, they said. The dance was of a 
somewhat unique character, inasmuch as the 
young men were to be blindfolded and one by one 
the young ladies were to be led before them, when 
they would pause and bowing, would say : 

“Ah! Good evening, Sir Knight!” 

The poor fellow must recognize the voice of 
the young lady whom he wished to be his part- 


A Modern Evil 


145 


ner throughout the dance, and pronounce her 
name. If he was so unfortunate as to guess the 
wrong lady the penalty for his rashness was that 
he must remain a “stag” throughout the dance, 
only being allowed to dance with chance partners. 
It is to be supposed that there were at least a few 
present who did not object to the rigidity of the 
above mentioned penalty. The ladies must suffer 
in consequence of the men’s stupidity, for in case 
the men guessed the wrong name they had to pass 
on to be partners for said stags. Each man was 
allowed but one chance, and if he missed, the 
young lady must sit down. They were led before 
him and one by one they spoke. If he did not 
recognize his sweetheart’s voice he must wait 
until he did, and then he must rise, and bowing 
gallantly, say: 

“How do you do, my lady?” 

If he guessed aright the bandage was removed 
from over his eyes amid the cheers of all present, 
and he was free to enjoy his companion’s society 
for the rest of the night. If otherwise, there was 
a general laugh, and both unfortunates were 
ostracized from the ring of guessers. Of course, 
all things considered, this looked somewhat hard 
upon the unoffending young ladies, but it was 
enforced in order to make the guesser doubly 
careful. It had originated in Nevarro’s ingenious 
brain, as usual — perhaps he had a motive — and 
Eloise had a vague idea that she would be made 
to pass before him before Serrell had a chance, 
and she had a miserable foreboding that he would 
guess her, too. 

The thrilling sound of stringed instruments be- 


146 


A Modern Evil 


ing tuned broke in upon the murmurous stillness. 
They were almost ready. Zida turned from the 
mirror with a satisfied little smile. 

“Will I do?” she asks, trailing her robe of 
white velvet across the carpet. 

Eloise as “America” in her enhancing costume, 
Stars and Stripes, turned toward her. 

“Yes, it is lovely, dear. You couldn’t have 
chosen a characer more becoming. Your train 
adds several inches to your height, apparently, 
and makes you appear quite stately. Then your 
hair is the right shade and withal you make quite 
a charming ‘Queen Mary.” 

Someone came to the door just then. 

“Everything is ready,” they said. There was a 
few hurried remarks, the soft swish of silken gar- 
ments, a girl’s soft laugh, a quick glance into the 
long mirror, and then the door was opened and 
the merry party streamed down the stairs and in- 
to the wide hall. At the foot of the stairs, how- 
ever, they paused, uncertain as to whether they 
must go in yet or not. 

“Come in,” Mrs. Nevarro said, coming to the 
door. “They are quite ready.” 

The young men stood up as they entered. Then 
Earle spoke. “Now I must blindfold you all. Sit 
down.” 

When he had finished, one of the musicians tied 
a ’kerchief over his eyes. 

“Now,” he said, taking his place in line with the 
others, “some one will please bring the ladies up, 
and the guessing contest will begin.” 

Zida was first to be taken up. She paused be- 
fore Jack with the usual salutation. He rose, and 


A Modern Evil 


147 

pressing his hand over his heart in a manner that 
convulsed the others with laughter, said : 

“Miss Van Worth. How are you, my lady?’' 

There was a loud clapping of hands, and Earle 
said: 

“Good for you ! Take off his mask.” Miss Lil- 
lian came next and was guessed ; and so on until 
it came to Nevarro. All the girls were in turn 
presented to him, but he held his peace. When it 
came Eloise’s turn she inwardly quailed. I can- 
not clear Eloise of changing her voice a little, but 
, Earle bowed gallantly before her. 

“Miss Venarez. How are you, my lady?” Poor 
! Levare’s heart felt like a leaden weight in his 
bosom. He had hoped so much for to-night; he 
had intended to ask Eloise a question he had at- 
tempted to ask her twice before, and both times 
Nevarro had interrupted him. He was beginning 
to regard Earle as his evil genius. 

The girl felt a bitter, unreasonable resentment 
against Nevarro. Had he no eyes, no brains? 
Couldn’t he see that she would much prefer being 
with Serrell? She lapsed into a dull apathy, she 
hardly heard what he was saying. Her interest 
in the evening’s festivities was destroyed. And 
yet! How could she wound his feelings? Kind 
hearted, generous Earle I If he cared for her how 
could he help it? Instead of hungering after the 
impossible why could she not love him? So the 
poor girl reasoned while she rebelled against fate. 
Earle was doubly interesting to-night, and poor 
Eloise answered his many questions in monosyl- 
lables. 

“Will you dance this time, Miss Venarez?” Ne- 


148 


A Modern Evil 


varro asks as the music strikes up a lively air. 
‘‘Or had you rather sit it out 

Eloise rallied her sinking spirits with an effort. 
Yes, she might as well dance. It would be no 
worse than to sit here and to be compelled to sus- 
tain a conversation. So she took his arm, and they 
passed the width of the room to their places. The 
music was entrancing, but to poor Eloise it 
seemed a mockery to her discomfiture. 

“Let us go into the hall,” said Earle, after the 
dance was over. “You look tired, and these 
crowded rooms are a bore. There is no one in the 
hall and we can talk.” 

She didn’t fancy a tete-a-tete with Ne varro just 
now, but she fancied that nothing could be worse 
than the present state of affairs. In the hall she 
breathed more freely. They were sitting on a tete- 
a-tete, under a spreading palm, when Earle sud- 
denly, ^passionately exclaimed : 

“Eloise I love you! I worship you! Can you 
not see that I do ? I thought to keep my love for 
you a secret, but you with your beauty and angelic 
purity have forced me into confessing that which 
I had so hoped to remain hidden from you. You 
need not tell me that it is hopeless — that I am too 
late, for I read it on your face, and yet please do 
not stop me. One year ago I imagined I loved a 
woman, but I’ve lived to learn that it was a pass- 
ing fancy. Compared to what I feel for you it 
was nothing — nothing. I was a fool ” 

“But Earle,” she said, now really interested, 
“I thought that Zida and you were engaged ? Has 
she—?” 

‘‘She has done nothing. She is just what she 


A Modern Evil 


149 


has always been to me. I proposed to her merely 
through pique. We have come to a mutual under- 
standing of each other. I have been an idiot, dear, 
but this is not idiocy I assure you. I’m perfectly 
rational now. When I thought myself in love 
with Ada it was merely an infatuation for a pretty 
face. I could not fancy her disposition. When one 
falls in love with beauty only there is a chance 
for his recovery, but when we learn to love a per- 
son’s mind and disposition it is a desperate case; 
there is little chance of our ever outgrowing it. 
That is the kind of love I bear to you, Eloise. 
You are beautiful enough, heaven knows, but it 
is only one of your many charms. I love your 
character. In the short time that I have known you 
I have studied you closely, and I have found that 
you can have no trifling thoughts or else your ac- 
tions could not be what they always are. Eloise 
you are the one good woman I have known — the 
one whose love could inspire me with noble as- 
pirations, could make of my life something truly 
good. I said, the first time I saw you, 'There is 
a real woman, the kind one often reads of but 
seldom meets. She will never give her hand 
where her heart cannot go.’ I cannot blame you 
if you love another, but tell me what I must do? 
You who have the power to steal my heart and 
make my futureAvithout you impossible, I beseech 
you, tell me what I am to do? I cannot face life 
as of old. I cannot really. Why does God in His 
infinite wisdom give you women the power to ruin 
our lives and then put you beyond our reach? We 
can no more resist your charms than we can fly. 
Tell me,” he went on passionately, taking her 


150 A Modern Evil 

hands in his own. “Tell me what is to become of 

mer 

The girl’s tender heart was deeply touched ; yet 
what could she say? She could not lead him on 
with false hopes. She felt his suffering keenly; 
she had experienced it all herself. Two tears 
trickled down her cheeks and fell upon his hands. 
Nevarro accepted this as an affirmative to his 
fears. “Never mind, dear,” he said soothingly. 
“My poor little girl I pity you. As I love you I 
pity you ; for I have seen this deception all along. 
Levare had no right to try to win your heart. He 
has given my sister to understand that he loves 
her. You have seen that, have you not Eloise? 
Of course you have. All the world has noticed 
what marked attention he is paying Lillian. Why 
this double dealing on his part ? Why this decep- 
tion? I confess I thought Levare above such an 
act. I do not know that he and Lillian are en- 
gaged, but I believe they are. He is a scoun- 
drel—” 

“Hush!” she said, horrified. “You have no 
right to speak of him that way. Believe me 
Earle, Serrell Levare has never tried to flirt with 
me ; he has never proposed to me. I speak truth. 
I do not belive there is a more perfect gentleman 
living. He cares nothing for me — nothing !” 

“Then why does he act as though he did?” he 
demanded. “Why, if he cares nothing for you as 
you say, does he pretend to ? I cannot believe that 
he doesn’t love you. If not he, then who has won 
your heart Eloise?” he went on passionately. 

The girl shook her head sadly. “No one — no 


A Modern Evil 151" 

one I assure you,” she replied with a peculiar sad- 
ness in her voice. 

“That will never do,” Nevarro said. “Serrell 
loves you, Eloise. He seeks to hide it but cannot, 
for love will show itself — it will betray us in spite 
of all. No, he has never told me so, for he is very 
proud. If he loved to distraction and was not 
sure that his love was reciprocated, he would not 
admit it to anyone for the world.” 

“Then he has certainly kept it to himself,” she 
answered. 

I “Then, my dear, who is it if not he?” he 
j pleaded persistently. 

“There is no one, Earle, I care for, nobody that 
! way, and no one cares for me.” 

“In that you are mistaken, dear,” he said 
quickly. “No one was ever more beloved than you 
are at this moment. I shall hope that one day you 
may not be able to say that, for I shall wait and 
hope,” tenderly. “May I not? Look up and bid 
me hope, Eloise. For heaven’s sweet sake do not 
send me from you, for outside of a hope in your 
love I have nothing before me ; nothing but a dull, 
blank, aimless, hopeless existence. I came very 
near going to ruin before,” he continued sadly, 
and with a touch of shame, “and had it not been 
for your noble influence, I would to-night have 
been a ruined man, for in spite of all his lordly at- 
tainments, man is but weak. A woman weilds a 
powerful influence over his life. All worthy men 
regard a true woman as God’s masterpiece, and 
wfere their faith in them is destroyed is it any 
wonder that they often go to destruction? They 
;deem afl humanity base then, so what need they 


152 A Modern Evil 

care ? My dear little woman,” pressing her hands 
softly, and holding her gaze with his burning 
look, “it rests within your power to make a good 
man of me. I have been no saint, Eloise — I will 
be honest with you — what young man has? But 
if this little girl will trust her future to me she 
shall never be made to regret it. I promise her 
that my future will be an improvement on my 
past.” 

She looked at him earnestly. “But Earle,” she 
said, somewhat regretfully perhaps, “I do not love 
you. You don’t want a woman who doesn’t care 
for you surely?” 

“I will wait,” he said, still clinging to this one 
frail chance of happiness. “I will wait — ten, 
twenty, thirty years — all my life; only let me 
hope.” 

Her silence seemed to madden him. “If you 
cannot love me for God’s sake promise me one 
thing,” he went on desperately, “never marry any 
other man while I live. Promise me, dear — 
promise me ! I have thought it all over quietly, 
and I have decided that I cannot and will not en- 
dure it. If you send me from you, I will destroy 
myself. I will not live through it.” 

“No, Earle,” she said calmly. “I shall never 
marry ; and if you are satisfied to wait I will try 
my best to care for you.” 

From the depths of her soul she hoped that she 
might learn to love him. What did it profit her 
she reasoned bitterly to eat her heart out about 
the other one? 

Nevarro raised her hand to his lips and kissed 
it reverently, passionately. 


A Modern Evil 


153 


‘Thank you, dear, for your blessed consola- 
tion,” he murmured, “thank you! I can ask no 
more of you, Eloise. You can but try, and if the 
God whom you so reverence is as we are taught 
— all love. He will grant us what we ask. He 
will let you care for me. I believe I could make 
you happy, or I would not ask you to be mine. I 
believe that the truest, stanchest love is that 
which we must cultivate. Love at first sight is 
all very well for the very young and for novels ; 
but in real life it is generally a failure. We can- 
not judge one’s disposition at first sight, or upon 
a first acquaintance, and one thing in favor of 
the former plan is that we can never learn to care 
for an unworthy object.” 

That night in passing Eloise, after the guests 
had taken their departure, Levare touched her 
hand. 

“Fate is against us,” he said. 

“The winds and the waves of ocean. 

They rested quietly ; 

But I heard on the gale a sound of wail, 
And tears came to mine eye.” 


IS4 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER XIII. 

ELOISE BOWS TO THE INEVITABLE. 

“My life is cold and dark and dreary ; 

It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past. 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast. 
And the days are dark and dreary.” 

The next morning Lillian did not come down 
to breakfast. She was suffering with a cold, and 
her throat was sore. She was very restless ; her 
face was flushed and feverish — her pulse was 
quick. She complained of a pain in her side. 
Eloise sat near and watched anxiously the face of 
the physician who had been hastily summoned. In 
the absolute quiet which reigned for a few sec- 
onds, and which was broken only by the loud 
ticking of the doctor’s watch, and the patient’s 
labored breathing; they all watched him, anxiously 
awaiting his decision. 

“High fever,” he said, laconically, “a hundred 
and three. Why didn’t you send for me sooner?” 

Mrs. Nevarro became visibly agitated. “She 
was only taken ill this morning, doctor,” she said, 
while her usually placid features grew keenly 
anxious. “She seemed quite well when she re- 
tired last night. Do you think her serious?” 


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155 


anxiously. Dr. Hayden shook his head gravely. 

“I cannot say/’ he answered. “She seems to 
have been unduly exposed. Her constitution is 
naturally weak, and her symptoms indicate ty- 
phoid pneumonia.” 

, At the mention of that dreadful malady Mrs. 
Nevarro’s face blanched, and she burst into hys- 
terical weeping. The little doctor hastened to re- 
assure her. 

“My dear madam,” he said hastily, “it is by no 
means a hopeless case and I hope that with proper 
care and attention the young lady will soon be 
restored to health. Give the medicine which I 
shall leave regularly, notice her symptoms closely, 
and if her fever has not cooled by five o’clock ad- 
vise me.” He took his departure. 

Late in the afternoon a mounted servant was 
rushing madly toward the city. About sunset Dr. 
Hayden came, and with him another of the pro- 
fession. He and the others watched throughout 
the long, winter night. 

The days wore on, and still she lay in that criti- 
cal state; no worse perhaps, but no better. Day 
after day and night after night Eloise was at her 
place at Lillian’s side. The girl had taken a fancy, 
so common among the sick, that no one but she 
could give her medicine or assist her in any way. 
The doctor had left her only once since the first 
day. In fact, two had been in constant attendance 
since then. Earle came and went. He was not 
satisfied away from her, and yet — he could not 
bear to see her suffer. On the sixth day Eloise 
had noiselessly left her place beside the bed (for 


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156 

Lillian had fallen asleep) and had gone out upon 
the veranda. She had been in that close heated 
room so much, she felt that without air she 
would stifle. When she reached the front door 
she came upon Serrell, who was pacing the length 
of the veranda — his hands crossed behind him; 
his head bent and thoughtful. When he beheld 
her he paused abruptly, raising his eyes to her 
face questioningly. 

“Is she worse?” he asked. 

“No, I can’t see any change,” the girl an- 
swered. “But don’t worry, Serrell,” raising her 
eyes to his pityingly, “we have not given up 
hope yet. The doctors say there is still a chance 
for her. I sympathize with you so much,” she 
went on laying her hand on his arm. “I can’t 
blame you for being anxious, we all are; tho’ I 
hope she will be spared to you, Serrell. It will 
be terrible if she is taken from you now.” 

Levare looked at her dumbfounded. Was it 
possible, he questioned himself incredulously, that 
she really believed that? It could not be ! Yet he 
remembered now that he had never told her of 
her mistake when she had congratulated him 
nearly a week previous. He sincerely hoped for 
Lillian’s recovery, but not because he loved her 
certainly. Suddenly the thought occurred to him 
that Lillian had more cause to think that he loved 
her than had Eloise. For three months he had 
paid her constant attention. He admitted to him- 
self that she was justifiable in that belief; for 
how could she know that he had been a victim 
of circumstances? It was only natural that she 
should not understand, but should think his mo- 


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157 


tive for seeking her society so constantly was 
prompted only by preference. When she was con- 
valescent he meant to undeceive her; if, indeed, 
she had been deceived. He meant to ask Eloise to 
be his wife, and to have their engagement an- 
nounced just as soon as she consented to make 
him happy. He drew the hand which lay upon his 
arm into his. 

“Eloise, little woman, you are very much mis- 
taken. It is not — ” but the same perverse fate that 
had come between them all along interfered again, 
for just at this moment Zida came to the head of 
the stairs. 

“Eloise T' she called quickly, “come quick 

The girl turned and ran hastily up the stairs; 
a dreadful foreboding at her heart. They were 
bending over the bed, and Mrs. Nevarro was 
wailing aloud. Eloise’s heart seemed suddenly to 
strangle her. Merciful God! was Lillian dying? 

No ; she had only fainted. She was drawing her 
breath in quick, short gasps. Mrs. Van Worth 
and Zida were rubbing her hands and face. They 
bore the stricken mother from the room. Inside 
the adjoining apartment Earle’s voice, in a 
broken undertone, could be heard trying to con- 
sole her. The doctor was forcing a little brandy 
between Lillian’s lips. 

“Take my place, Eloise,” Zida said piteously, 
raising her streaming eyes to her friend’s face. 
“I can’t stand it any longer.” 

She went out as the other came up. Her small 
face was scared and white — she seemed about to 
swoon. In a moment Lillian opened her eyes. 
Eloise was bathing her face. 


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158 

“Eloise !” she cried, in a sudden burst of terror. 
“Why did you leave me? Oh, I thought I was 
dying,” pitifully; “and Eloise Fm afraid to die. 
Don’t leave me again. I’m not good enough to 

die, Eloise ” But Eloise laid a soft hand on 

her lips. 

“Hush !” she said gently. “Do not talk of dy- 
ing, Lillian. Do try to rest, dear. I shall not 
leave you again.” 

She looked up into the true eyes, and with the 
perfect trust of a little child she fell asleep. All 
night long the girl sat there, her right arm under 
Lillian’s head. The customary visitors came in for 
the night. In the hushed and solemn stillness of 
midnight Mrs. Nevarro, weak and exhausted 
from weeping, came and knelt at the bedside of 
her daughter. She was weeping still. The slight 
noise .^used the sleeper. 

“Oh, Eloise,” she cried with a start. “Where 
are you, dear? Do not leave me !” 

“Here, Lillian — here I am,” she said, laying 
her cheek against hers. “I am not going to leave 
you until you are better.” 

When the first faint streaks of dawn lighted 
up the eastern sky, she lay very, very quiet — a 
dreadful, unreal stare in her pale blue eyes — 
babbling senseless nothings. Many weary days 
and nights followed without any perceptible 
change. Eloise grew thin and pale the brilliant 
light left her eyes — the sweet smile her lips. She 
ate but little, and that little was brought to her. 
She could not be induced to leave Lillian for a 
moment. She had promised her she would not, 
and she kept her promise faithfully. She would 


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159 

do her part, she told herself, to make Serrell hap- 
py; though her tender heart grew sick with in- 
cessantly watching another’s suffering. Her love 
was pure and unselfish. And this proud, scornful 
girl who in the old days hardly deigned to notice 
poor Eloise, now clung to her as though she were 
the very breath of life ! Ah well ! Suffering places 
all on an equal footing. 

“Young woman,” the little physician said to 
Eloise on the ninth day. “You must take a little 
exercise. You are keeping too close ; it is killing 
you. Why you really look worse than my 
patient.” 

“I can’t help it,” she returned. “I shall cer- 
tainly keep my promise to Lillian.” 

The little man turned to his friend. “That’s 
what I call physical endurance. There’s a consti- 
tution for you, eh ?” 

The morning wore on and about noon Earle 
came into the room. His eyes were heavy from 
loss of sleep — his face haggard from anxiety. He 
stood for a moment near the bed watching his sis- 
ter’s white face. Neither he nor Eloise uttered a 
word. They were alone, and Nevarro stood for 
a moment silently watching, and then her wasted 
face and hands suddenly touched a tense, drawn 
chord in his heart, and his rigidity snapped 
asunder. He moved a chair to the bedside and 
sinking into it, buried his face in his hands, and 
his form was shaken with sobs. The silence was 
unbroken save for that. Eloise watched him a 
moment in silence — her heart aching for him. 
There is something touching in a strong man’s 
grief— something that appeals to our hearts in 


i6o A Modern Evil 

spite of us. She suddenly spoke. “Earle, I wish 
I could console you. I wish I could tell you as 
one who knows, that Lillian will live; but,” her 
voice broke a little, “in cases like this we realize 
our utter helplessness.” There was a moment’s 
silence, in which Lillian sighed deeply and slept 
on. Under the spell of an irresistible impulse 
she laid her hand upon his arm. 

“Earle what lesson is taught us by this afflic- 
tion ? What is it sent upon us for ?” 

A broken sob fell from the man’s lips. 

“We are taught, Eloise,” he said at last, “not 
to depend too much upon ourselves. Your belief 
is better than mine, dear, after all. Pray for 
her, Eloise. Do you think she will die?” 

“I cannot say, Earle,” went on that sweet 
voice. “I trust not. I have prayed that your 
darling sister may be spared to us; and I 
believe in prayer, Earle, but,” and her voice 
trembles, “if God sees fit to remove her from 
our midst, do not forget that it is for our ulti- 
mate good. ’Tis such a consolation to be- 
lieve in another existence. I have gone through 
all this long ago, and we can well sympathize with 
what we ourselves have suffered. I think God 
takes our dear ones sometimes so we may have an 
interest in Heaven, for ‘Where your treasures are, 
there will your hearts be.’ I had given but few 
thoughts to a hereafter until after mother died. 
And then when little Hugh left me, I grew to feel 
that a hope in a future life were too precious a 
thing to admit of impossibility. We are wont to 
feel very indifferent about a hereafter as long as 
all our interests are here upon earth, but when we 


A Modern Evil i6i 

know we can see them no more here forever, and 
that in the resurrection lies our only hope, we are 
made to realize what a wondrously beautiful 
thing the hope of the Christian is.” 

“I never tried to pray before,” the young man 
admitted, “but I have tried to pray for her, and 
the words go no farther than my lips. God and I 
are not acquainted. He seems out of reach — a 
great way off. I can hardly imagine Him as I 
petition. Sometimes I imagine He can have no 
interest in that which concerns me, or it would be 
otherwise. But I have tried, Eloise. At times I 
have become so weary with myself and with 
everything that I have made efforts to draw out 
from the old life and begin anew, though you 
may not believe it — but everywhere I turned 
temptation stood in my path. When a man is 
trying to reform the devil redoubles his exer- 
tions to drag him down, and no help is given 
him. I am quite sure that every man must work 
out his own salvation, despite all arguments to 
the contrary. That accounts in great measure 
for the alarming increase of infidelity. In this 
progressive age man is unwilling to believe or 
accept any religion that does not make itself 
manifest. It’s a very pretty thing to say that 
God is doing all in His power to redeem the 
world; but if such be the case it argues but 
feebly for His power, for it is quite certain 
that if He so willed it He could do so by 
one thought. The prayer which we have always 
known says that He leads us into temptation — 
even He. So the odds are against us. I will make 


A Modern Evil 


162 

one more final efifort and I have promised to lead 
a better life, if He will but spare Lillian.” 

Promising God! Bribing God I Oh, finite in- 
comprehension ! Oh unworthiness I What a piti- 
ful thing humanity is ! And how prone we all are 
to do this ! The clay promising obedience to the 
potter if he will but grant it a favor ! Think of it, 
ye who have been guilty of a similar offence 1 The 
veriest slave — bought with so wondrous a price — 
the price of a Saviour’s blood, offering the Cre- 
ator a bribe if He will but grant him a favor ! We 
can well believe that even amid the joys of Para- 
dise the angels do sometimes weep ! 

The door opened quietly and the doctors came 
in together. There was a gravely serious ex- 
pression on their faces. Earle rose and faced 
them, a pathetic, questioning look was in his 
eyes. 

When twilight fell Levare came into the room, 
and paused at the foot of the bed. Lillian was 
delirious. 

“Serrell,” she murmured incoherently '‘if you 
care for me why do you not tell me ? Why do you 
keep me waiting ? It is cruel, cruel I I love you — 
love you so!” 

Her voice died away in an inarticulate whisper. 
Eloise who was bending over her glanced up at 
him. He was standing as if rooted to the spot. 
His expression was one of despair. He turned 
his eyes to Eloise’s face. There was a pathetic, 
beseeching look in them that went straight to her 
heart. “Speak to her, Serrell,” she said, “perhaps 
she will know you!” But to her surprise he 
turned and walked out of the room. 


A Modern Evil 


163 

Lillian was very low. Her breath was so slight 
she seemed already dead. Dr. Hayden sat by her 
now holding her hand. Mrs. Nevarro utterly ex- 
hausted knelt beside the bed. It is wonderful how 
we manage to keep up at a time like this. Mr. 
Van Worth had been sent for. Jack had gone 
home five days ago. Serrell remained. Eloise 
bent lower over the bed. One moment she 
looked up into the doctor’s face and rose hur- 
riedly — 

There was a long, low, despairing wail in that 
chamber, and Mrs. Nevarro was borne fainting 
from the room. 

In an agony of despair, unconscious of what 
he said or did, Earle grasped Eloise’s hand. ‘‘This 
is too bitter!” he said, in a hoarse, unnatural 
voice. “Eloise, it will kill me.” Then he broke 
into great, dry, heart-rending sobs. 

“She is dying! How to endure?” That cry 
reached the ears of someone else, and in that 
dark hour when death hovered so near, forgetting 
self and future happiness, and remembering 
naught save the poor sufferer, and the stricken 
family, a low cry burst from Levare’s lips : 

“God, save her!” 

“There is no God,” the foolish saith, 

But none, “There is no sorrow ;” 

And nature oft the cry of faith 
In bitter need would borrow. 

Eyes which the preacher could not school, 

By wayside graves are raised ; 

And lips say, “God be pitiful !” 


i64 


A Modern Evil 


That ne’er said, “God be praised!” 

Be pitiful, O God! 

Five minutes later Eloise made her way to Mrs. 
Nevarro’s room. “My dear Mrs. Nevarro,” she 
said, “do not weep. Lillian is not dead, she has 
rallied and the doctors say there is a decided im- 
provement. It is almost a miracle that has been 
wrought out before our very eyes,” she went on, 
taking the hand of Earle and his mother in each 
of her own; “for I assure you that we thought 
her beyond our care forever, when she suddenly 
showed signs of life. Then we worked hard, oh, 
so hard I all of us — praying all the time that she 
, ould revive, and thank God ! she has done so.” 

“Thank God!” breathed the mother and son 
in unison. And then Eloise broke down too. She 
had born it bravely, but the inevitable reaction 
had come. Then for a few moments they wept 
together silently, the mysterious bond of human 
sympathy binding them to each other so strongly. 


A Modern Evil 


165 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A BETROTHAL. 

still, sad heart ! and cease repining, 

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; 

Thy fate is the common fate of all. 

Into each life some rain must fall. 

Some days must be dark and dreary.’’ 

— Longfellow. 

It was now the first of March. Our friends 
were again in their city homes. Lillian was con- 
valescent; though she had not yet left her room. 
The sun shone bright and warm. From the house- 
tops and neighboring trees came the joyful twit- 
ter of birds. Lillian sat by her window, drinking 
in the scene before her, as only those can who are 
recovering from a long tedious illness. On her 
finger there sparkled a brilliant diamond. She 
held it out before her now, regarding it with lov- 
ing pride. She had worn it only a week, that 
slender circlet of gold — how much it meant to 
her ! It was an emblem of their endless love. Ser- 
rell had written his proposal, for he could not 
bring himself to do otherwise. He felt that should 
he declare himself verbally, she would discover his 
real feelings. So he had written to her just before 
she came home ; for Zida had said ; 


i66 


A Modern Evil 


'‘If you love her, Serrell, and mean to ask her 
to marry you why do you not do so at once? 
What is the use of procrastinating? Don’t you 
see that the girl is eating her heart out about 
you ?” 

Yes, he had seen it, he had heard that which 
confirmed his fears from her own lips, though only 
Kloise and himself knew ; and Zida did not know 
of what Lillian had confessed in the vagaries of 
delirium. Poor girl ! He had unintentionally 
given her cause to think that he cared for her, and 
she should never know any better. Neither of 
them had been to blame ; it remained for him to 
act the part of an honorable man, and to suffer in 
silence stoically and as a duty. Honor ! It is usu- 
ally a brief way of expressing unbearable self- 
sacrifice, and of relinquishing all that goes to make 
life sweet. Have you ever thought of how much 
that one word implies ? 

Just a week ago he had slipped this small ring 
upon her finger and had kissed her, though had 
she been less happy and absorbed she must have 
seen how abstracted and miserable he was, and 
that the kiss was cold and unloverlike. 

“I used to fancy that you loved Eloise,” she 
said, smiling happily and feeling that she was 
blest beyond the common lot of mortals. He 
evaded the question. “I once fancied that she 
loved you too, Serrell,” she went on. 

“You see you were mistaken,” he answered in a 
hard, unnatural voice. 

“I’m so happy, I’m afraid it is too good to 
last” she said somewhat sadly. “It is bliss beyond 
compare.” A sudden wave of pity swept over 


A Modern Evil. 


167 

Levare's heart. “Are you indeed so happy Lil- 
lian ?” he said, drawing her to him very tenderly, 
and wishing that he could love her — that he might 
return this passionate adoration. “It is not too 
good to last, dear,” he went on, still holding her 
in his embrace ; “it will last while we both live. I 
am thankful little girl that you are satisfied with 
me, unworthy though I am, and if I can make 
you happy I shall not have lived in vain.” 

So Lillian had accepted what she thought to be 
Serrell’s love as a gift from God, and thanked 
Him for sparing her to all this happiness. Serrell 
passed to and from his downtown office as of 
yore. He was paler and a little more grave. He 
sent flowers and fruit to Lillian every day, and 
became an essential part of the girl’s existence. 
He pitied her so; for did he not know what it 
meant to love and to not be loved in return? At 
least, he thought he knew. The night before he 
had gone to see Eloise. She was alone and re- 
ceived him in her study. She seemed pleased to 
see him, but as Serrell sat opposite her he imag- 
ined she looked pale and sad. She looked very 
sweet, though, and Levare was never more fully 
aware of the sacrifice he was making than now. 
He would have given the world to have been able 
to take this beautiful girl in his arms and to be 
able to protect her always, but he was bound to 
another, and honor forbade. All these fancies in 
which he so loved to indulge were but day dreams 
and after the manner of such they soon vanished, 
leaving their scars on the heart and brain of the 
dreamer. 

“Eloise/’ he said suddenly. “You and I have 


i68 


A Modern Evil 


been laboring under a mistake.” The girl looked 
searchingly into his face. He left his seat and 
stood before her. 

“It doesn’t rhake any difference to you,” he 
went on bitterly, “but it has changed the current 
of my whole life, and marred my happiness for- 
ever.” Eloise had risen too. 

“You think I love Lillian,” he continued with 
something of an effort, “and as matters now stand 
I wish to Heaven that such were the case ; it 
would be much better for me, if I could.” He took 
a step nearer her. She felt her heart beat rapidly, 
and then it seemed suddenly to stand still. “The 
pity of it is,” he said sadly, “is that I do not. I 
have cared for but one woman, and had you been 
more worldly-wise Eloise, you would have discov- 
ered who that is long ago.” 

She did not speak, and he went on. 

“But dear,” taking her hands which were 
crossed passively before her, “I have always 
thought that you were not like other women, 
and I still believe it. I presume that is the reason 
I love you so. Yes — ” as she held up an imploring 
hand — “you. This is the last time I shall ever 
address you in this strain, so please listen to me. 
It is altogether too late. I’ll admit, but still I am 
determined that you shall know how I feel to- 
ward you. It can do no harm and will relieve my 
feelings somewhat. I have loved you ever since I 
first saw you. I took an interest in you from the 
first. Do you remember how I used to hover 
around you when you went to school ?” he asked, 
and a sad smile rested for an instant upon his 
lips. “I thought you the most divine creature I 


A Modern Evil 


169 

ever saw, and I still think so, Eloise. Zida always 
told me that it was you and not Jack that proved 
such an attraction for me in the old days on South 
Street. I never knew how much I did care for you 
until I went off. I passed the old place yesterday, 
Eloise, and you can’t imagine how it brought back 
old times to me.” 

‘‘Yes, Serrell,” she answered, and her eyes 
were full of tears, “that is the dearest spot 
on earth. I once thought I would be hap- 
pier away from there, but I have lived to learn my 
mistake. The memories which cluster around that 
dear old place are so sweet they are almost pain- 
ful. It was there that mother and dear little Hugh 
died, and that renders it sacred to me ; and oh, 
I wish, I wish we could live those happy days 
over, Serrell!” 

He drew her to him saying tenderly: “Dear 
heart, I wish it too. I wish to God that neither of 
us had ever grown out of them. If we could 
have foreseen the course of future events we 
might have escaped all this. We were both am- 
bitious, and though we have in a measure at- 
tained the goal of our ambition it has been our un- 
doing. Hush, Eloise,” he said, while his face was 
drawn and ashen pale, “do not weep; you make 
it so much harder for me. We must turn from the 
what might have been to the what is to be. I am 
going to marry I^illian, not for love, but be- 
cause she cares for me very much. You can’t 
imagine how much I suffered when this revela- 
tion came to me. You remember that evening she 
was so ill ? You remember what she said, and that 
you asked me to speak to her? I couldn’t do it, 


170 A Modern Evil 

Eloise ; I would have broken down. I suffered 
the pangs of hell — ” He broke off suddenly. “Let 
that pass,” he said bitterly; “it is too cruel to 
remember, I shall never love anyone but you ; and 
I cannot live near you and be with you, and have 
you believe me indifferent to you as to the rest. 
It will all be for appearance sake, dear, remem- 
ber. I think I will not live here afterwards. I have 
thought it all over, and I have decided I cannot 
live a lie. It will be better for us both, don’t you 
think ?” 

There was a deep bitterness at the girl’s heart. 
Why was it that she had to give up everything? 
Happiness always came just near enough for her 
to imagine but never realize. Serrell was trying 
to steel his heart to the inevitable, but all the while 
he was wondering how he was going to give her 
up. Never to meet again except as friends. His 
brain reeled — his heart beat almost to suffocation. 

“In after years when you are happy with Ne- 
varro,” he said, while his heart was breaking, 
“think of me sometimes, and pity me.” 

“Oh, don’t, Serrell !” the girl broke out with a 
sharp cry. “I shall never marry; and I shall 
never forget you. You have been so kind to me 
and to my little angel brother. I shall never for- 
get you. Why do you say such cruel things to 
me. You know that I can’t forget you even if I 
wished to do so. God bless you for what you 
have been to me, Serrell. I hope you may be 
happy some day. As for me there is no such 
thing possible.” 

She drew her hands from his clasp, and resting 
her arms upon the mantel, hid her face upon 


A Modern Evil 171 

them and burst into passionate weeping. Levare 
stood watching her; his face was painfully 
drawn — his emotions were in a tumult. Her 
words had verified his suspicions. She loved him ! 
Oh, agony ! He had thought it hard enough to 
give her up before this knowledge was his, but 
now — He took a quick step toward her. “Eloise/' 
he cried, passionately, drawing her to him, 
“Eloise, answer me truthfully; your confidence 
shall not be abused. You know I love you far too 
dearly to ever expose your secret — answer me. 
If this thing had never happened could you have 
loved me enough to be my wife? Tell me, 
Eloise.” 

But she turned away from him. 

^‘Leave me, Serrell,” she said brokenly, while 
with one hand she essayed to keep him at a dis- 
tance. “If you love me, leave me !” 

Too late he knew that she loved him! Ah, 
well ! Most of the good things of life come to us 
too late I 

“Leave me, Serrell,” she pleaded, raising two 
tear-dimmed eyes to his. “Why prolong this 
agony? You are breaking my heart unnecessar- 
ily-" 

He******** 

Lillian and Serrell were to be married in 
June, and it was now the first of April. They 
intended traveling afterwards, for the physicians 
recommended a change for Lillian. She had 
had a cough ever since her illness. She now 
took daily drives, and as the days went by some 
of her old vivacity came back to her. She was 
very happy, for she was now Serrelhs promised 


1^2 


A Modern Evil 


bride. One evening as Levare sat in his office 
a small boy handed him a note, and hurriedly 
opening it he read: 

“ ‘Dear Serrell : Many thanks for the books 
and papers. If you have no engagement for 
this evening will you please come to see me ?’ 

The name of the woman he loved appeared be- 
neath. Luckily he had no engagement, for it 
would certainly have been broken for once if 
such had been the case. He wondered much 
why she should have sent for him to-night. 
What would she say to him? A few moments 
later he went up the steps and rang the door- 
bell. Eloise admitted him herself. 

“Come in, Serrell,” she said, and her face 
showed her happiness at seeing him again. 
“Come into the sitting room.” 

He took a seat beside the open window, 
through which the perfume of the magnolia and 
jassamine drifted in. It was now the first of 
May, and the air was soft and balmy. She sat 
opposite him. Surely, thought Levare bitterly, 
as he watched her, Eloise must have tried her 
best to-night to see what a fool she could make 
of him — to tease him with vain hopes. She was 
a charming picture in her pale blue gown that 
fitted her perfect figure so faultlessly, and Le- 
vare reflected with exceeding bitterness that all 
this loveliness could never be for him. 

“Lillian has been here to-day, Serrell,” she 
said, at last. “Serrell, she is very, very happy, 
and oh, she loves you very, very dearly. I trem- 
ble to think if she should ever find out your real 


A Modern Evil 


173 

feelings toward her. It would kill her if she 
should ever know how she has been ” 

She breaks off and he substitutes: 

“Deceived? Yes, Eloise; I am quite sure of 
that. If I had not been I would never have 
asked her to marry me.” 

“Do be careful,” she said pleadingly. “Love is 
quick to see these things, and I know it would 
break her heart. She is such a fragile little 
creature ; and her love for you is such an absorb- 
ing passion it is pitiful.” 

; “Don’t worry, dear, she shall never know.” 

“I know if you promise me,” continued she, 
“you will keep your word.” 

There was absolute and painful silence for a 
moment; then Levare spoke. 

“I suppose Lillian told you that we were go- 
ing away immediately after our marriage.” 

He paused and began pacing the floor agi- 
tatedly — his hands were behind him, his eyes 
fixed upon the floor. 

“She told me she thought you and Earle 
would be married on the same day and accom- 
pany us. She loves you next to me, Eloise. She 
has been strongly attached to you ever since you 
nursed her through that serious illness; and she 
would not object in the least to a third party so 
long as you were the one. She thinks it would 
be jolly to have you and Earle along. Poor 
girl !” he said compassionately, drawing one ner- 
vous hand across his lips. “She doesn’t dream — 
she is so innocent.” 

t “Yes,” Eloise said, “she did try to persuade 
me to consent to marry Earle on the day that 


/ 


174 A Modern Evil 

you are married and accompany you on your 
tour ; but we will not.” 

“I am glad that you are not going, dear,” he 
said, ‘‘for that which affords us the greatest hap- 
piness under certain conditions becomes a tor- 
ture under others. I’m afraid I could not keep 
my secret with you along. I have no right to 
dictate to you, Eloise. I am a selfish brute ; but 
I had hoped that since I were not free to marry 
you, you would never marry. How fickle women 
are !” 

Then seizing her hands suddenly, “Forgive 
me, Eloise — forgive me, dear. I didn’t mean it. 
I am not myself any more. I have no right to 
criticise your actions. Marry Nevarro if you 
love him, and be happy. He is a good fellow.” 

“But I do not love him,” she said, raising her 
truthful blue eyes to his, “and I shall never 
marry him.” 

“It would be better for us both if you could 
love him, and if you can do so, Eloise, do not re- 
main single because you think it would please 
me. It will profit me nothing for you to remain 
unmarried. Perhaps some day when the wound 
is not so fresh we may live near each other and 
see each other often.” 

There was silence — a silence more eloquent 
than words. Levare spoke : “Eloise, I used to 
enjoy hearing you sing, in the old days when 
everything was so different. Will you sing for 
me ?” 

Ah! why did he mention that! Why did he 
refer to that dear, dead past beyond recall ! Her 
heart was full enough, surely. She led the way 


A Modern Evil 


175 


to the drawing room. A soft radiance enveloped 
her as she idly ran her fingers over the keys. It 
fell upon her fair face, lighting it up with an un- 
earthly purity. He watched her in worshipful 
silence. His words had filled her soul with re- 
gretful, never-to-be-forgotten memories. Eloise 
had a charming voice. To-night she surpassed 
herself. She was singing to the man she loved; 
perhaps it would be the last time in life, and she 
felt inspired. The deep chords — surpassingly 
sweet and tender — echoed the cry of her life. It 
spoke to her of an eternal farewell, and touched 
across her soul like living fire. Suddenly that 
sweetly powerful voice, thrilling in its intensity, 
broke the stillness. It held Levare enthralled. It 
was an old song which we have all heard many 
times ; and she had sung it for him years ago. It 
was a special favorite with him. 

^Where are now the merry party 
I remember long ago. 

Gathered round the Christmas fires. 

Brightened by their ruddy glow? 

Or on summer’s balmy evening 
On the hill upon the hay? 

They have all dispersed and wandered 
Far away, far away. 

‘‘Some have gone to lands far distant. 

And with strangers make their home ; 

Some upon a world of waters. 

Evermore are forced to roam; 

Some have gone from us forever. 

Longer here they could not stay, 


A Modern Evil 


176 

They have reached a fairer region, 

Far away, far away. 

"‘There are still a few remaining 
Who remind us of the past ; 

But they change as all things here change. 
Nothing in this world can last. 

Years roll on and past forever, 

What is coming, who can say? 

Ere this passes many may be 
Far away, far away.” 

The sweet voice died away in a low sob. She 
raised her eyes to his. He was leaning on the 
piano, looking down at her — a world of regret 
and longing in his fathomless dark eyes. Some- 
thing in their gaze caused Eloise to lower her 
eyes. Neither of them will ever forget that 
night. 

“Eloise,” he said with suppressed passion, “it 
is not yet too late. It will be impossible for me 
to do this thing ! My God, how can I live with- 
out you ! Where is the honor in this ? I confess 
I am unable to see it. Is it honorable to marry 
a woman whom I do not love? Is it honorable 
to live a lie? My darling, it is not yet too late,” 
he said, forgetting himself and the world — 
everything except that this woman before him 
made up his existence. And this was good-bye ! 
His spirit rose in revolt. The girl’s lips trem- 
bled piteously. She felt it, too. It seemed that 
she had suddenly reached an impassable desert 
in her existence. “We can explain all to Lil- 
lian,” he went on; “she will soon forget, while 


A Modern Evil 


177 


you and I will never. My darling, we have but 
one life to live, and nothing can ever repay us 
for a life of unhappiness. I know you love me, 
Eloise ; then why will you not listen to me ?” 

He caught her to his heart, murmuring pas- 
sionate words of love; he pressed his burning 
lips to hers in an ecstacy of mingled bliss and 
anguish. Their responsive touch seemed to mad- 
den him. 

“My love, my love,” he went on, straining her 
to his heart, “why will you not save us from a 
lifelong misery? What creed are you following 
that bids you make of yourself a martyr to un- 
happiness? You are ruining your life and mine 
for a whim — merely such.” 

She lay in his embrace passively; her strength 
seemed suddenly to have left her. Poor Eloise! 
Poor, weak, unhappy humanity! For an in- 
stant she wavered. How could she deny her 
starved heart the only happiness it had ever 
known? The woman whom this man was to 
marry had everything. She had nothing! She 
had loved him for years so fondly, and only for 
this! She rebelled at this freak of destiny. 
Heaven might have granted her this, her soul 
cried out in great bitterness. Realizing her utter 
helplessness while clasped in his arms, she said : 

“This is horrible! Serrell, spare me! Then, 
bursting into tears : 

“Ah, Heaven, let me die — let me die! I can- 
not live after this!” 

Thinking that she was about to yield, Levare 
redoubled his pleading. 

“Let us go, Eloise,” he begged, pressing her 


A Modern Evil 


178 

close to him, every nerve in his body tingling — 
his pulses and brain on fire. “I am strong 
enough to shield you from everything. You 
shall never be censured or blamed, and think of 
our future, dear one — how happy it will be! 
There is but one bliss,” he continued, ^^one 
ecstacy — Love. I believe pure love such a holy 
thing that the man or woman who errs for love’s 
sake should be forgiven much. It is a thing of 
divine origin; a thing which renders all condi- 
tions sacred. My darling I have tried all that 
renders life dear — fame, prosperity, popularity, 
satisfied ambition and love; and I declare to 
you that compared to the soul-thrilling ecstacy 
of mutual love all the others fade into pale in- 
significance. There is no life without love, dear 
heart — nothing worth living for.” 

"‘Don’t Serrell,” she breathed at last. “Let me 
go! You are not responsible for what you are 
saying and doing. To endure is more noble than 
to yield. You and I are strong enough to make 
the sacrifice, and we must make it. It would kill 
poor Lillian to lose you now, and then we should 
despise each other. Let us at least endeavor to 
retain our respect for each other.” 

“It is impossible,” he answered, in a voice of 
utter weariness. “I cannot give you up.” 

But that which he could not resist, she nobly 
placed beyond his reach. 

“You must,” she said firmly, disengaging her- 
self from his embrace. “I was mad just now to 
listen; but that is over. I am now quite calm; 
quite determined. Henceforth our pathways lie 
apart. You and I must never meet again alone. 


A Modern Evil 


179 


Serrell ; never again,” she went on calmly, 
though her face was white as death. She had 
made a noble fight for honor, and she had con- 
quered ; but she dared not measure the conse- 
quences — she dared not count the cost of her vic- 
tory, lest she should weaken. 

“You said just now that I cared for you. You 
are right. Let that memory nerve you. Yes, I 
love you, Serrell — you can never understand how 
much; but it is too late. Nature is stronger than 
anything; and no matter how we may struggle 
to combat her natural impulses, they are bound 
to assert themselves. I believe that if two souls 
love truly they will recognize their affinity in an- 
other world, for naught but love can enter that 
realm of spirits. It is love that takes us there 
and it is love that constitutes and presupposes a 
Paradise. True love cannot die; it is of God, 
and God is Love. Perhaps in another world we 
may be permitted to enjoy that which is denied 
us here.” 

“Perhaps, dear heart,” he said, “perhaps. We 
will do our duty, you and I, and trust God for 
the rest. Good-bye, my only love,” he went on, 
taking both her hands. “Good-bye ! For the 
sake of our love for each other, kiss me. It is 
for the last time.” 

She raised her pure face to his, and their lips 
met in a last, long, clinging kiss. One brief, 
blissful moment — a few hurried heart-beats, and 
it was over. He put her gently from him. 

“When you plead, dear heart at the Throne of 
Grace, remember me. Good-bye !” 

“Good-bye, Serrell.” 


i8o A Modern Evil 

“God bless you, Elo^e !’' 

A moment more and she was alone. She stood 
listening to his footsteps as he went down the 
steps and out into the street. Then realizing that 
this was indeed the end — that he had passed out 
of her life forever, she groped for a moment 
blindly, and throwing up her hands, fell prone on 
the floor. 

He walked on down the street. The soft. May 
wind fanned his fevered face, yet he felt that he 
was choking. It was over. They would never 
meet again alone; they had pledged themselves 
to that. His head was bent — his thoughts were 
chaos. He had a mad, unreasonable desire to 
leave the world — to lose consciousness to this 
pain that was consuming him. The town clock 
struck twelve. It fell upon his ears like the 
knell of doom. He walked on past the gloomy 
cathedral, whose dark towers loomed above him 
like warning fingers pointing heavenward. He 
knew not whither he was going; he cared not. 
The myriad stars twinkled in silent sympathy to 
all those who suffer from whatever cause. He 
entered a street which led toward the river, a 
street seldom frequented by such as he, and rude 
jests, oaths and obscene songs floated out upon 
the still night air. He had left the street lights 
behind him. In the broad, calm sheet of the river 
his figure was reflected a moment, standing ir- 
resolute. Beneath its broad bosom there was rest 
— rest from the unbearable sorrows of life. But 
no. He could not do that. That was for women. 

Something bright glittered in the soft moon- 


A Modern Evil 


i8r 

light — something cold and glistening was pressed 
against his temple, and for one brief, terrible mo- 
ment a momentous, all important, vitally-frought 
question presented itself to him. Serrell Levare 
was not a Christian; but he felt just then what 
most of us have felt in the most trying moments 
of our lives when such harrowing suggestions 
have presented themselves — he was afraid that 
death as we know it, is not an end to life. He 
was afraid to risk it. Standing there with this 
awful temptation before him the sweet, reproach- 
ful, sorrowing face of the woman he loved rose 
like an apparition before him. The glistening 
piece was hastily concealed. A feeling of shame 
took possession of him. Was he weaker than a 
woman? Poor little Eloise! How her heart 
would bleed if she could but know ! She would 
face life bravely. Should he do otherwise? 
Then his thoughts reverted to the woman who 
loved him and whom he did not love. What a 
bitter blow it would be to her love and pride to 
know that he preferred death rather than face 
life with her. 

He sat down near the water’s edge and buried 
his face in his hands. He was too weak to go 
back yet. The struggle he had just endured ren- 
dered him incapable of action. It had been terri- 
ble, and the reaction was but inevitable. 

******* 

A few nights after this the front door of the 
V enarez residence opened to admit a young man, 
dressed in the height of fashion, who seemed 
quite sure of his welcome. The maid paused at 
the door and announced : 


A Modern Evil 


182 

''Mr. Nevarro.” Earle came quickly forward. 

"How are you, little girl?” he asked, taking 
her hands, and looking down into her face with 
a pleased smile. "All alone to-night?” 

"No,” she answers, leading him to a seat. 
"Jack is in his room. I have been reading.” 

He drew from his pocket a small velvet case, 
and opening it, displayed to her bewildered gaze 
a magnificent diamond ring. The girl checked 
the exclamation of delight that rose to her lips. 

"Earle, why did you get it?” she asked. "It 
is not right that I should accept it, for I can 
never marry you.” 

"But you told me that I might hope,” he per- 
sisted pleadingly. "You promised you would 
try, you know. Don’t break my heart, Eloise.” 

He slipped it upon her reluctant finger eag- 
erly. "Try to care for me, Eloise; won’t you?” 

"Yes, I will try Earle,” she said. “I will in- 
deed.” 

He raised her hand to his lips. 

"I will have to be content with that, dear, I 
suppose. I can only wait and hope. It may 
come at last. I do not consider the time lost in 
waiting for you. No sacrifice I can make for 
your sake is too great.” 

Why could she not love this man? her re- 
bellious heart questioned. He was good, hand- 
some, rich ; and he loved her devotedly. Why 
would not Heaven grant that her afifections 
should turn to him since she had been denied the 
other ? 

It was quite eleven when Earle rose, saying he 
must go. 


A Modern Evil 


183 

^'Good night, sweetheart,” he said, pressing her 
hands fondly. “Be a good little girl and think 
of me just as much as ever you can, and in my 
very best light always. Try not to see my faults, 
dear heart, and you may learn to care for me. 
That is all I ask of you; and my whole life will 
be spent in making yours one of happiness. I 
only ask that you let me prove my loyalty to you. 
Good-night !” 

There was a moment’s silence. . . . Then 
the door closed after him. Eloise was returning 
to the sitting room when Jack opened his room 
door and came out. 

“Has he gone, old girl?” he asked. 

“Stayed pretty late. Well,” as his eyes light- 
ed upon the new ring, “so it’s a settled fact, is 
it ? Good for you ! That is the most sensible de- 
cision that I ever knew you to make. Did better 
than I thought you would ; that’s a fact. I fan- 
cied you were gone on Levare; but I see you’ve 
got an eye to business after all. 

Jack tilted his chair back and sighed resign- 
edly. 

“I’ve got to get my girl something like that 
now very soon, I suppose.” 

He threw his head back and with half-closed 
eyes watched the blue rings of smoke curl up- 
ward from his lips. 

“She has decided to fight it out with me for the 
rest of our natural lives. Congratulate me, old 
girl ! I’m so specially happy I can’t sleep.” 

The girl broke into a soft little laugh. 

“Yes, I do congratulate you, Jack,” she said 
warmly. “I always predicted that you two 


A Modern Evil 


184 

would marry, you are so congenial. I hope you 
will come out all right in the fight. When did it 
happen ?” 

“Last night about half past twelve,” he an- 
swered, blowing out a volume of smoke. “That 
is — the actual settlement of the question. 
We’ve been debating on the advisability of such 
a course for some time. In fact, we both experi- 
enced a change of heart several months ago. It’s 
very indefinite, though,” removing his cigar from 
his lips and gazing thoughtfully before him. “Of 
course, I can’t take her as matters stand now. 
I’ll have to wait until I am a little better off. 
Confound the luck ! It looks as if that old creat- 
ure out yonder never intends to give up the 
ghost!” 

“Why, Jack,” his sister said reproachfully. 
“Be ashamed of yourself !” 

“No, I’m not, either,” he flashed back unre- 
pentantly. “She ought to be kind enough to 
give somebody else a chance now. Have you 
and Earle decided upon the day yet?” 

“No,” she answered, looking away from him. 

“You haven’t?” in much surprise. 

“Well, what do you find to talk about so much 
then?” 

“Just what you and Zida find to talk about so 
much.” 

“Well,” said he, “if I were you I’d hurry up 
and get it over with. What’s the use of putting 
it off?” 

“Perhaps it’s with him as with you,” she said 
slowly; “he can’t afford it.” 

“Pshaw!” returned he. “That won’t work. 


A Modern Evil 


185 

Nevcirro can afford to keep a wife if any man 
can. He and Miss Lillian will be worth half a 
million at their mother’s death. Old Levare knew 
which side of his bread was buttered/’ he went 
on, smiling. “I once fancied that he liked you 
pretty well, Eloise ; but I guess he found out that 
there was nothing in that for him,” he rattled on 
thoughtlessly, little knowing that his words cut 
his sister cruelly. “Wonder how the old folks 
will take to me ? By Jove ! That will be a pretty 
good deal for yours truly, too ! It’s awfully nice 
when a fellow is fortunate enough to get beauty 
and ‘rocks’ together. One isn’t complete with- 
out the other. They’ve got but the one child, and 
of course she’ll inherit it all.” 


i86 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER XV. 

THOSE WHOM GOD HATH JOINED! 

“Like Dian’s kiss: unasked, unsought. 

Love gives itself, but is not bought/’ 

“No one is so accursed by fate. 

No one so utterly desolate. 

But some heart, though unknown, 

Responds unto his own.” 

The wedding day dawned bright and clear. 
Lillian’s maid was on her knees before her 
mistress, putting finishing touches to her toilet. 
Eloise and Zida in entrancing gowns of white 
silk and large white leghorn hats trimmed with 
ostrich tips, stood near, drawing on their gloves. 
Eloise was white and nervous; but the bride- 
elect was perfectly calm; her face was radiant, 
and her eyes shone like stars through the silken 
sheen of her snowy veil. She looked like a 
dream in her robe of ivory satin worked with 
pearls. She wore no ornaments except the dia- 
monds her mother had given her and which were 
heirlooms. Mrs. Nevarro came up and kissed 
her. 

“My darling,” she said, “we must hurry a lit- 


A Modern Evil 187 

tie. It is almost twelve, and the carriages are 
waiting.” 

It was a charming wedding. Eloise was maid 
of honor and Earle was “best man.” The “happy 
pair” stood under a gigantic evergreen horse- 
shoe, suspended, from which was a floral cu- 
pid’s bow and arrow. An invisible choir sang 
softly throughout the ceremony. Serrell was 
very pale, and his hand trembled visibly as he 
slipped upon his bride’s finger the wedding ring. 
The minister had known them both from child- 
hood, and when they knelt together to receive his 
benediction, he placed a hand on each bowed 
head and offered up a fervent petition to God 
that they might be always happy in each other’s 
love. Eloise echoed the prayer silently. Then 
to the strains of the wedding march they came 
down the aisle. Before them went two little 
flower girls, strewing white roses. It was over. 
Lillian leaned back on her cushions. Her cup of 
happiness was full to overflowing. She had 
nothing more to desire. It seemed that she had 
lived all her life for this supreme moment of 
bliss. In Mrs. Nevarro’s spacious drawing- 
room, Jack grasped Serrell’s hand. 

“It isn’t so dreadful after all, is it?” he said 
jovially. “It might have been worse had it 
lasted longer.” 

But when it came Eloise’s turn she embraced 
Lillian fondly, wishing her all happiness. She 
then took Serrell’s hand silently and her brave, 
true eyes met his. He pressed her gloved hand 
warmly, and once again felt strong enough to 
face life. 


i8B 


A Modern Evil 


* ♦ * 

Winter had come. Eloise sat in her cosy study, 
running her eyes over the Times, a tri-weekly 
paper. A bright fire burned in the grate, for the 
weather was bitterly cold, and outside the wind 
howled dismally. Suddenly laying the paper 
aside she fixed her gaze upon the dying embers 
before her. Long ago she remembered having 
made a vow that if fortune would but favor her, 
she would never forget to be generous. Fortune 
had been generous to her certainly; yet had she 
kept her word? One week before the following 
appeal had been printed in the T imes : 

“To All Christians: 

“Christmas, the time of universal rejoicing and 
good will to men, draws on apace, and thousands 
of happy hearts are beating in joyous anticipa- 
tion of what this season of gladness will bring 
to them. But while we are happy in these mer- 
cies that so richly surround us, we should not 
forget what this time should teach us. To some, 
Christmas is but a name. No token of love for 
the season’s greetings will brighten their lives 
and gladden their empty hearts ; and while we re- 
joice in God’s mercies toward us let us not for- 
get that He expects us to do our duty toward our 
less fortunate fellow-creatures. All those who 
feel that their hearts would feel lighter — that 
their happiness would be more complete in doing 
a real charity can do so by leaving contributions 
here, at my home, or at Mrs. Van Worth’s. The 
funds will go to make a dinner — a genuine love 
feast — for the poor, in the city hall, on Christ- 


A Modern Evil 189 

mas day. Let us not be selfish in our own boun- 
tifulness.” 

And Eloise’s signature appeared underneath. 
But somehow or other the people had been less 
generous than on previous occasions, whether 
from the unusually “hard times” or disinclina- 
tion I cannot say, but Eloise, finding herself 
short of contributions, had swelled the funds 
from her own pocketbook, for she was a deter- 
mined little soul, and she had quite set her heart 
on this “love feast” as she was wont to call the 
dinner she gave. Each participant was enriched 
by a. gift of some kind — the outcome of her own 
generosity — and after dinner there was to be a 
dime entertainment for the benefit of those gath- 
ered. So everything went off very nicely, and 
Eloise did not reproach herself for not being 
present at Mrs. Van Worth’s elaborately de- 
signed sociable; for since Serrell had passed out 
of that society she did not care for it herself. 
Earle was away from home on urgent business 
so he could not be present. So everything had 
gone on beautifully. Eloise passed among the 
crowd with a sweet smile on her beautiful face. 
She wore her habitual white, and she passed up 
and down the long table seeing that each and all 
were provided for, and everywhere she was 
greeted with smiles and blessings. After dinner 
the entertainment was given, and each child was 
presented with a package of fireworks ; and it 
did her generous heart good to watch their small, 
pale faces light up with pleasure and anticipa- 
tion. It was quite dark when they came out, and 
as Eloise stood on the top step, a small boy, 


190 


A Modern Evil 


bolder, if not more appreciative, than the rest, 
threw his tattered cap into the air : 

“Hurrah for Christmas and for the white 
angel ! ’ ' 

And the whole crowd joined in. This one act 
of kindness and noble generosity earned for 
Eloise, among that class, at least, the title of 
“the white angel.” 

“Eloise,” Zida said that night as they stand on 
the veranda at Mr. Van Worth’s, “you’ve made 
quite a name for yourself by your writings and 
have started off nicely if you don’t go and spoil 
it all by indulging philanthropic ideas. Who 
would have thought of your staying housed up 
all day and half the night with that crowd of 
street urchins ?” 

Eloise gave a peculiar little cough. 

“It seems, my dear Zida, that I must have 
thought of it, judging from subsequent events. 
We are taught that a bond of sympathy should 
bind us in heart to these poor unfortunates ; and 
even the street urchins have hearts and are hu- 
man. I cannot enjoy myself knowing that there 
are those all around me who are suffering for the 
bare necessaries of life. It takes so little from us 
and it means so much to them. I thank Heaven 
that I have within my heart a warm, sympathetic 
spot for my fellow-creatures.” 

At this moment Jack came to the door. He 
had been inside talking to Mr. Van Worth, who 
was too much indisposed to be out. 

“Well,” said Zida, turning to him, “have you 
come out to see the display?” 

“Oh, fireworks!” he said contemptuously. “I 


A Modern Evil 191 

expect to see enough of that hereafter! I came 
to see what you all were talking about/’ 

“Dear little girl,” Earle said an hour later, as 
they stand in the Venarez sitting-room together, 
“Fm so glad it was a success. I have just re- 
turned and have heard all about it.” 

“Yes,” she said, “and had it not been for you, 
Earle, I could not have carried out my plans at 
all.” 

“Dear little woman — dear little sweetheart,” 
he went on softly, holding her hands and gazing 
tenderly down into her eyes. “When you are my 
wife, Eloise, you shall indulge your charitable 
inclinations as much as ever you will.” 


A Modern Evil 




CHAPTER XVI. 

AN UNFORTUNATE ATTACHMENT. 

Eloise heard from Lillian regularly. They 
were then in Florida. Lillian’s health had not 
improved, and her cough was worse. The doc- 
tor had told Serrell that she must not spend the 
winter in Washington. So they were now at 
Tampa Bay. She wrote her, too, that she was 
trying her best to improve, for she wanted to 
come home on a visit. Serrell was not looking 
well, either, and he worked so hard, poor fellow ! 
all on her account. He would not consent to 
carry her to any more incongenial climate until 
spring. 

‘T’m such an expense to the pooi boy, Eloise,” 
she wrote, “and have been ever since we were 
married. I tell him he has reason to regret mar- 
rying me. He is so kind — so gentle and loving 
always. I want nothing else in the world — ^he 
makes up my existence, and despite my contin- 
ued indisposition we are very, very happy.” 

Eloise’s eyes filled with tears. Poor Lillian! 
Was it possible that she would be taken from all 
this happiness so soon? So they were coming 
home in April, and Mrs. Nevarro was busy put- 
ting things in readiness to receive them. Eloise 
had written another book. Someone far away 


A Modern Evil 


193 


had read the book, and the same ‘^someone” had 
written her his congratulations. Eloise always 
received a kind of grim satisfaction from Lil- 
lian’s letters. They had come from Serrell. Pos- 
sibly he had mailed them. That night in her own 
room Eloise sat reading a paper from Tampa, 
giving Serrell’s wonderful speech on Cuba, which 
had created quite a sensation. She closed her 
eyes a moment and imagined she saw that com- 
manding figure — the one she had loved, and 
alas ! still loved so well — standing apart from the 
rest and commanding profound attention by the 
sheer force of his argument, and the magnetic 
influence of his grave, dark eyes. No man could 
listen to Serrell Levare and look into his frank 
eyes and doubt him. She knew their magnetic 
influence far too well for her own comfort. She 
remembered his words concerning her first book. 
So many beautiful sentiments and grand utter- 
ances in the speech made her think of him. She 
treasured his words concerning her book in her 
heart still. They had spurred her on to greater 
effort. Serrell was not like most men. He al- 
ways thought more of the pleasures of others 
than of his own. All men seemed shallow to her 
as compared to him. She might have loved Earle 
and been happy, she told herself bitterly, had it 
not been that she cared for him. She little 
thought that he was rushing madly into politics 
as a solace for his wounded affections. Her 
heart beat high when she thought of seeing him 
so soon, and she reproached herself bitterly for 
caring so much, 


194 


A Modern Evil 


“It is a shi,” she said with a sense of humilia- 
tion. “I wish it could be otherwise.’' 

Then suddenly she rose and began pacing up 
and down in a manner greatly agitated. 

“No, no; the memory of my love for him is too 
bitter-sweet. I cannot forget, and oh, despite the 
fact that he belongs to another — that it is sin- 
ning to care for him, I could not live if I knew he 
did not care for me ! Oh, my love, my love ! Be 
true to me in spite of all. Oh, Serell, Serrell !” 

She clasped her hands in agony, and the tears 
flowed freely down her cheeks and fell on the 
carpet at her feet. A few moments passed thus, 
then she dropped on her knees and raised her 
face in agony. 

“Lord, if it be possible,” she moaned in an- 
guish of spirit, “let this pass ! It is all worm- 
wood — all !” 

Someone rang the door bell, but she did not 
hear. A moment later there came a knock at her 
door. The girl sprang to her feet and hastily 
brushed away her tears. The next moment Ne- 
varro appeared smiling radiantly. The smile 
died, however, as she stood aside for him to en- 
ter, and a look of tender, anxious concern crept 
into his eyes. 

“Why, Elqise — why my little girl; what’s the 
matter ? Have you heard bad news ?” 

She shook her head dolefully. 

“Then what is it, my dear,” he said, drawing 
her tenderly toward him. “You have been cry- 
ing.” 

“I don’t know, Earle. I feel so lonely — so for- 
saken.” 


A Modern Evil 


195 


A peculiarly helpless, hopeless expression 
passed over his face. He pressed her hand ten- 
derly. 

“Can I never fill the void in your life, my 
Eloise? It seems too hard that you cannot love 
me. I could kill the scoundrel who has won your 
heart only to break it. Who is he, Eloise? He 
is a fool, a blind hard-hearted, soulless repro- 
bate, or he would love you. Great God, little 
girl, what manner of man could resist you? You 
of all women ! Tell me his name and I will 
challenge him. The wretch! Do I know him, 
Eloise?” 

“Please do not put such questions to me,” she 
said. “I cannot answer you, Earle.” 

“Then for God’s sake don’t ever tell me that 
you feel lonely and forsaken again. Heaven 
knows I’ve done all I could. You won’t let me 
comfort you. I cannot tell you how miserable 
the knowledge of your unhappiness makes me. I 
would gladly die to save you a pang, oh, Eloise; 
and yet I am powerless to help you. My darling, 
pity me ! If I did not think I could make you 
happy, I would not insist. Let me teach you to 
forget that brute, dear, whoever he may be. Go 
with me now. I want you.” 

She drew from her finger the sparkling dia- 
mond and held it out to him — a pitiful, pleading 
look in her eyes. 

“Take it, Earle,” she pleaded. “I have tried 
and failed. I do not love you, and it is not right 
that I should keep the truth from you. Take it, 
and I pray that you may find someone to wear it 
more worthy than L” 


196 


A Modern Evil 


Nevarro rose to his feet, white as death. 

“You don’t mean that, Eloise,” he said hoarse- 
ly. “My darling, speak ! Your jest is cruel !” 

“Nay, I am not jesting, Earle,” she said sadly. 
“I have tried, but it is impossible.” 

“Then why?” he questioned passionately. 
“Why? I know I’m no saint, Eloise, but I’m not 
an ogre, am I? What is there in my make-up 
that is so abhorrent to you ? Why is your nature 
so antagonistic to mine? Dear heart, let not 
false modesty stand between us and happiness. I 
have a past, but, believe me, it is indeed a past. 
All men have a past ; but such associations a real 
man forgets. Some women are made to save us. 
Others are made to drag us down to perdition. 
You know that, do you not? The latter sort I 
have left forever if you will but prove true to me. 
I am disgusted with my past life, Eloise. No 
matter how reckless a life we may lead for a few 
years, the reaction is apt to come, sooner or later, 
for life is no jest. It remains with you to make 
or mar me, Eloise. It is for you to say. The 
longing for a woman’s companionship is so 
strong within me that I cannot much longer deny 
myself that consolation. Women have been a 
very evil influence in my life thus far, but I feel 
sure that if you cast me aside I will have reason 
to blush for my future career. What am I say- 
ing to you ? You innocent child ! Eloise, save 
me from myself, I pray you! I am ashamed, 
thoroughly humiliated that I am confessing 
facts; but we are all creatures in the hands of 
an inexplicable and relentless destiny. My life 
is so empty without you, I fear if you do not con- 


A Modern Evil 


197 


sent to become my wife — the savior of my morals 
— I will be tempted to assume a relationship less 
binding with some one less conscientious. I 
know that your pure soul revolts from such 
thoughts as these, but such things exist, and if 
this is the reason you are sending me from you, 
I must tell you that you will never improve upon 
me in that respect. Do not be instrumental in 
my downfall, little woman, for I shall not always 
live alone, and I shall never offer another woman 
my name.” 

“I would not be afraid to trust you, Earle,” 
she answered truthfully, “if I could only love 
you. I have perfect confidence in you; but I 
could not do you nor myself the injustice of mar- 
rying you when I do not love you.” 

There was absolute silence in which only the 
musical tick of the small clock broke the still- 
ness. Nevarro leaned heavily on the mantle. 

“I cannot take the ring,” he said, and his 
strong voice broke. “If you cannot keep it as my 
betrothed, then keep it as a constant reminder of 
my unwavering devotion. Keep it as the gift of 
one who adores you and you alone and forever. 
I could not keep it. It would always be a re- 
minder of what I had hoped would one day be 
mine — of the time when I imagined the day 
when my life would be blessed like that of other 
men. I assure you no other woman shall ever 
wear it. The associations that cluster around 
that ring are too sacred to be desecrated that 
way. It belongs to a dead past. Keep it, and 
in after years when another takes its place keep 


A Modern Evil 


198 

it still in remembrance of one whose heart you 
have broken by sending him away.” 

“Hush, Earle!” she sobbed. “No other shall 
ever take its place. Dear Earle, I have tried 
so hard — so hard and I have failed.” 

She clasped her hands over his. 

“Earle, I want you to feel that I have your 
welfare at heart always ; that if you should come 
to grief I would suffer because of it. I have al- 
ways liked you, Earle, very, very much. I think 
that I understand you better than any one, per- 
haps, and as I have no other interest in life I 
mean to see that you keep out of trouble.” 

Remembering his words, she became desper- 
ately in earnest. 

“If I cannot love you in the way you ask 
surely you will not deny me your friendship. I 
shall die unmarried, Earle, and I want you to 
remember that I shall make it the work of my 
life to see you happy — to atone to you for the 
pain I have unintentionally caused you. Earle, 
surely I have suffered sufficiently without being 
made to feel that I am in any way responsible for 
anything rash that you may do. I cannot let you 
leave me until you promise me that you will do 
nothing rash. It would kill me.” 

“If your God is just why does he let you suf- 
fer so?” he said at last. 

“I cannot say. Some people never know what 
happiness means. I am one of them.” 

“And I another,” he said. “I am the most un- 
happy, accursed mortal breathing. I wish to 
God I had never been born 1” 

He turned away to hide his face. For a mo- 


A Modern Evil 


199 

merit silence reigned. Then seizing her hands 
he covered them with kisses. 

“Dear one, is it farewell?” he said brokenly. 
“Farewell to my life’s fondest hopes and aspira- 
tions? Out of pity for me, Eloise, will you not 
let me take you in my arms once — just once, and 
kiss you ? It can be no harm, and I have longed 
to kiss you so long! Will you not, dear heart?” 

“Promise me,” she said, “that you will be the 
same — that you will not change? It would 
break my heart if anything evil should befall 
you.” 

“For your sweet sake,” he said earnestly, “I 
will try to be a man. You will still permit me 
to come, and under the spell of your influence I 
can do nothing unworthy, surely. I will do my 
best, anyway. I can never forget that you 
deemed me worthy to be your betrothed husband, 
even though you could not love me. The mem- 
ory of that will hallow my whole life. Farewell, 
Eloise. If we live for twenty years and you 
should change your mind remember I will be 
glad of you even then. You will not kiss me? 
Then, dear, I will not insist, though it is bitterly 
hard for me.” 

He stood up, for the front door had opened 
noisily, and some one was coming down the hall 
with quick, heavy footsteps. Eloise had risen, 
too, and they stood expectant, waiting. A mo- 
ment later the door opened and Jack stuck his 
head inside. 

“Nevarro,” he said in a voice strangely sup- 
pressed, “come to Mrs. Van Worth at once. 
Your uncle has shot himself 1” 


200 


A Modern Evil 


CHAPTER XVIL 

AFTERWARDS ! 

^‘Let our unceasing, earnest prayer 
Be, too, for light — for stren^h to bear 
Our portion of the weight of care 
That crushes into dumb despair 
One-half the human race. ... ’’ 

“Bell ! thou soundest mournfully 
Tellest thou the bitter 
Parting hath gone by.” 

— Selected. 

It was now June — ^beautiful, sunny, smiling. 
Just one year since Lillian and Serrell were mar- 
ried. They were expected home momentarily. 
They had intended coming two months be- 
fore, but the state of Lillian’s health would not 
permit. Mrs. Nevarro moved from room to 
room, putting things in readiness for her daugh- 
ter’s arrival. The long windows were open and 
the fragrant zephyrs blew into the rooms. In 
Lillian’s boudoir a delicate porcelain jardiniere 
filled with the waxen flowers of the tube rose, 
stood in one comer. Lillian was so fond of them. 
The rich velvet carpet had been removed some 
time ago and a pretty Japanese matting had taken 


A Modern Evil 


201 


its place. Fresh, cut flowers were everywhere. 
A bright, happy smile of expectation lingered on 
Mrs. Nevarro’s lips. Mrs. Van and Zida were 
present to receive them, too. Time had made 
great changes in Mrs. Van Worth’s and Zida’s 
lives. Mr. Van Worth had been dead a 
month. Unable to face life in his altered posi- 
tion, he, like many others, suffering from a sim- 
ilar cause, had ended his career. For a long 
time the change had been inevitable, though the 
wife and daughter had been kept in blissful ig- 
norance of the fact — and when, as a result of 
reckless speculation, it had come, he had been 
unable to bear it, with the sad result of self-de- 
struction. Earle Nevarro was now sole owner 
of the business. Mrs. Van and Zida still re- 
mained at their old home, though there was no 
income, and Mrs. Van looked gloomily for- 
ward to the time when they might have to move 
into less pretentious quarters. It was a very for- 
lorn little figure that moved about the beautiful 
and once happy home, now so strangely sad and 
quiet; and the piquant, pretty face usually so 
gay, surmounted by its crop of curly red hair, 
looked strangely out of place in its adornments 
of sombre black. It was a sad little face, for in 
spite of her frivolity Zida was very fond of her 
dead father, and mourned his loss deeply. It 
had all been so sudden — so horrible at first she 
could not realize it. He had been in his usual 
spirits that night, and had sat up joking with the 
family and Jack Venarez until eleven that sad 
night one month ago, when he retired to his 
room from whence he was carried out a corpse. 


202 


A Modern Evil 


He had been in his room only a few moments 
when the deed was accomplished, and upon 
forcing the door open the horrified investigators 
had found him lying across his bed, not un- 
dressed ; a bullet hole in his temple, and a smok- 
ing revolver clutched in his stiffening fingers. 
Death had been instantaneous. As the days went 
by the bitter realization came, and it had its effect 
upon her life. Now it was a very common oc- 
currence to find her proud mother in tears, and 
often they wept together. Eloise came every 
day, and Zida grew to think life would be impos- 
sible without these visits. The beautiful horses 
had been sold. All this was very galling to Mrs. 
Van’s proud, sensitive nature, and Zida some- 
times wondered if her mother were not grieving 
more for the loss of luxury than for her dead 
father. To-day she was sadder than usual, so 
Zida had strolled out upon the lawn with a book. 
The book was evidently uninteresting, for her 
ringless hands were crossed listlessly before her; 
her eyes gazed into vacancy. There had been a 
lovers’ quarrel, and Jack had not been to see her 
for a week. The society that had seemed so in- 
complete without her before her misfortune, had, 
after the first few days of crushing sorrow, not 
bothered her with their attentions. A moment 
later Earle had come into the yard and had taken 
a seat beside her. 

“My little cousin, you have been crying again,” 
he said, tenderly taking one of the small hands 
in his own. “Are you, indeed, so unhappy, 
Zida?” 

“I am miserable,” she said, in a quiet, resigned 


A Modern Evil 


203 

way, which went to his heart, ‘‘utterly miser- 
able.’^ 

Nevarro regarded her a moment in silence. 
What had come between her and Jack? Did he 
really care for her, or had he only had her sup- 
posed wealth in view when he pretended to love 
her? Now that they had lost everything had he 
forsaken her? Earle ground his teeth and in- 
wardly muttered a curse. He did not know of 
the quarrel, and he imagined miserably that he 
had forsaken her and that she was grieving her- 
self into a shadow about him. 

“Zida,” he said, after pondering long and 
deeply, “my life is empty, too. Do you think you 
could be any happier if you were my wife ? You 
would then live in your wonted luxury, you 
know ; your every wish should be gratified. Dear 
little girl, it is needless to tell you that I have no 
heart to offer you. I gave that to someone else 
long ago — to someone who would not accept it; 
but Zida,” very tenderly, “I am very, very fond 
of you, and if you will but give me the right to 
care for you, you shall never regret it.” 

But poor Zida ! Her heart was too full. She 
burst into tears and left him. Mrs. Van Worth 
had witnessed the little scene from her win- 
dow and that night at the tea table she ques- 
tioned Zida what her cousin had been saying to 
her. The poor child was too miserable for an 
untruth just then, so she told her mother in few 
words that he had proposed to her. Mrs. Van’s 
heart gave a great bound. She had been wish- 
ing for this always. 

“Of course you accepted him, Zida,” she said, 


204 


A Modern Evil 


smiling amiably. “My dear, it was so sensible of 
you,” she went on. “When you are Earle’s wife 
we can live in all our former splendor. I am 
really proud of you ! There is no better catch 
in the country. Earle is such a splendid fellow, 
and will make you an ideal husband.” 

Zida swallowed hard. She glanced into her 
mother’s beaming face imploringly. 

“No, mamma,” she answered. “I did not ac- 
cept him. I do not love Earle in that way.” 

“Love !” sneered Mrs. Van, contemptuously. 
“Love indeed! Those of our caste leave that to 
plebeians. It is quite out of fashion to marry 
for love nowadays.” 

“I could not marry Earle, mamma,” she went 
on, pleadingly. “I have promised to marry Jack 
Venarez.” 

Mrs. Van colored wrathfully. 

“Don’t be a fool, Zida,” she said, losing pa- 
tience. There was so much at stake now and it 
all depended upon Zida acting sensibly. “You 
cannot afford to act so unwisely. Jack Venarez 
is not able to keep a wife, and he may never be. 
You have been too tenderly reared to become the 
wife of such a man. He may have to wait for 
that legacy that he is expecting, for years. I 
don’t see why you cannot care for Earle. Heaven 
knows he is far superior to the other one.” 

“But I love Jack so much, mamma,” the girl 
falters ; “you can never know how much. Would 
you have given papa up for another man?” 

“That is quite different,” Mrs. Van said. 
“Your father was able to keep me in luxury. No 
man has any right to ask a woman to marry him 


A Modern Evil 


205 


unless he is able to better her condition; or at 
least, unless he is prepared to keep her in as much 
comfort as she has been accustomed to. Think 
of the home Earle will give you ! Really, Zida, 
you are to be envied.” 

“Mamma,” the girl persisted, ‘T’d rather live 
with Jack in a cabin than with Earle in a palace. 
It would be horrible to be married to a man 
whom I did not love. It would be doing Earle a 
great injustice were I to marry him, loving 
Jack as I do.” 

“Don’t mention love to me again,” Mrs. Van 
said. “I am sick of the word. It is not the only 
thing to be considered. Love and poverty do not 
go well together. You don’t know what you are 
doing.” 

Zida did not reply, and Mrs. Van suddenly 
changed her tactics. 

“Then do as you please,” she said, “but re- 
member if you ever have cause to regret it that I 
warned you. I do not believe Jack Venarez 
capable of an abiding love. ‘A new broom 
sweeps clean,’ but when the novelty has worn 
off, as it certainly will, you will learn that you 
have sold yourself very cheaply. With Earle it 
would be different. Honor would keep him true 
and differential to his wife, even when the first 
glamour of passion had worn off. Ah, Zida, you 
don’t know anything about poverty ! I don’t 
know what is to become of me. After all I’ve 
done for you, this is my reward. Earle would 
be kind to me. I could not live with you and 
Jack Venarez, and I never will. After all my 


2o6 a Modern Evic 

love for you you will not make this one sacrifice 
for me.” 

And she burst into tears. Where her mother’s 
anger had failed to move Zida her tears suc- 
ceeded. She twined her arms around her moth- 
er’s neck. 

“Hush, mamma ! It shall be as you wish,” she 
said, resignedly. “If by becoming Earje’s wife 
I can make you any happier, it shall be so.” 

Mrs. Van drew her daughter down on her 
lap. 

“You will see where I have been right some 
day,” she said. “Good-night, Zida,” she said, 
kissing her. “You have acted the part of an 
obedient child, and Heaven always blesses such.” 

That night Zida’s pillow was drenched with 
tears. Mrs. Van crept to the door and stood 
noiselessly listening. The deep, heart-broken 
sobs reached her ear, and for one moment her 
heart was touched. But the love of wealth and 
display outweighed her desire for her child’s 
happiness; and she stole softly to her own room 
without speaking. There was a bitter parting 
between Zida and Jack the next day. In spite of 
all her tears and explanations he had denounced 
her as a coquette ! While her heart was break- 
ing he told her in bitterness of spirit that she had 
led him on merely to see what a fool she could 
make of him — that he never expected to look 
upon her face again, and that she who had been 
so base would never be happy — that she had 
ruined his life and sent him to the bad. The girl 
clung to his arm despairingly, pleading with 
him to listen to her — that he was breaking her 


A Modern Evil 


207 

heart ; that though she would be Earle’s wife her 
heart would always be his own ; and perhaps in 
the future she might be free to love him. But all 
this stung the young man to the quick. He 
turned on his heel and shook off the hand that 
rested imploringly upon his arm, vowing that he 
would “never marry any man’s old widow” — 
that “if Earle Nevarro died within ten minutes 
after they were married he would not have her.” 

Now all this was not very romantic surely; but 
as this story is not altogether fictitious, but is 
taken partly from real life, those were the poor 
fellow’s sentiments exactly, for in spite of all the 
love stories we read of rejected lovers tearing 
their hair and committing suicide we seldom see 
that except in fiction. He had left her in spite 
of all her tears, without even saying “Good-bye,” 
and twenty minutes later a young man stood in 
his own room hurriedly packing a large, brown 
valise and feeling all the while a burning desire 
to strangle a certain long-legged blonde young 
gentleman who was the source of all this trou- 
ble, and he secretly hoped a certain red haired 
young lady would suffer for all this. It was in 
this state that Eloise found him a moment later. 

“Why, Jack,” she asked in surprise, pausing 
in the doorway, “what is wrong?” 

“Nothing specially,” he answered, somewhat 
embarrassed, cramming an extra supply of ties 
and collars in, and pulling the straps across he 
buckled them nervously. “I’m just going off for 
a day or so for my health.” 

He looked up and forced a smile to his aid. 
She suspected at once that something was 


2o8 


A Modern Evil 


wrong. Venarez straightened up and consulted 
his watch. 

“I must be off ; it’s nearly train time. I won’t 
be gone long, Eloise,” kissing her. “You must 
not be lonely.’” 

“What’s the matter, Jack? Has Zida gone 
back on you?” 

He turned from her and strode quickly across 
the room. 

“Yes, confound her! She’s played the flirt 
with me till she’s made a complete ass of me, and 
now she tells me she is going to marry Earle 
Nevarro. I don’t care what the devil becomes 
of her or myself, either !” 

“Where do you think of going. Jack?” she 
presently inquired. ''Do be a man. Do you 
think you are the only person in the world whose 
love affairs have turned out unfortunately? Are 
you going to let it floor you this way? Where 
are you going, anyway?” 

“Oh, I’m not going to kill myself,” he said, 
reassuringly, and with a forced smile; “neither 
am I going to cross the briny. I wouldn’t flat- 
ter her that much. I’ll not leave the state, and 
by George I since I come to think of it,” putting 
the valise down savagely, “I’ve decided not to go 
at all ! It would do her too much good, eh? No 
sir! I’ll stay right here and smoke ten cent 
cigars and drink a gallon of lager beer right off 
the ice every day, and get fat. She’ll never have 
the pleasure of telling Nevarro after they are 
married that that poor idiot of a Jack Venarez 
pined away and died, or left the state because she 
wouldn’t marry him. I’ll stay right here like a 


A Modern Evil 


209 


hero and enjoy myself, and she and Nevarro may 
both go to the devil for all I care ! Thank God, 
she’s not the ‘only pebble,’ even if she does think 
so. She can’t make a fool of me ! If you will go 
on about your business, Eloise, I believe I’ll take 
a nap.” 

This very irate young man pulled off his cap 
and stretched himself upon the couch. 

“I wouldn’t worry, Jack,” his sister said, her 
hand on the door knob, as she turned to go, “for 
perhaps it is best after all. A man like you 
would not suit Zida; you should know that, and 
you are young yet.” 

“Sure !” 

“I suspect it is best for both of you, tho’ I like 
Zida very much. She and Earle will match ad- 
mirably, for they are very congenial; and he can 
afford to humor all her whims, while you could 
not. You should consider all that.” 

“Hur!” grunted Jack, turning his face con- 
temptuously to the wall. “I have considered it. 
Thank God, I saw my mistake in time! I just 
did escape. She almost had me 1” 

“You must not condemn me, Eloise,” said 
Earle Nevarro, on the day of the beginning of 
this chapter. “I knew if I remained single the 
rest of my life I could never hope to win you; 
and since that is the case I thought it didn’t mat- 
ter much what became of me. Zida was so mis- 
erable, and the poor child misses her former as- 
sociations terribly. Upon my honor I did not 
know that she and Jack were engaged, or I cer- 
tainly would not have interfered. She has ac- 


210 


A Modern Evil 


cepted me. I felt sure after Uncle George died 
if Jack really loved her he would ask her to be 
his wife, and didn’t know that he had already 
done so, so I asked her myself. I told her all, 
Eloise. I told her that my heart was not mine 
to give. I might have loved Zida had I never 
met you. When I learned the true state of af- 
fairs I promised to clear up things for them, 
but she confessed to me that she no longer loved 
Jack. Just a moment ago I saw him. He as- 
sured me that it mattered not — that he cared as 
little for Zida as she did for him. You can ap- 
preciate my situation. I cannot release her from 
the engagement unless she requests me to do so. 
Do you understand ?” 

“Yes, Earle,” the girl replied. “You have 
done nothing for which to apologize. I hope you 
will be very happy together, and I’m sincerely 
glad you have made up your mind to marry. It 
is a sensible and highly commendable step, and I 
congratulate you.” 

An hour later a closed carriage stopped at 
Mrs. Nevarro’s gate. It contained Lillian and 
Serrell. The poor mother almost swooned when 
she beheld the terrible change in her daughter’s 
appearance. She had to be assisted to the house. 
Earle and Serrell almost carried her. Earle’s 
face was white and set; Levare’s exceedingly 
grave. They carried her to her room and placed 
her gently on the bed. She closed her eyes lan- 
guidly. Serrell sat down beside her. Earle held 
a glass of brandy to her lips. 

“Here, sister,” he said, bending over her, 
“drink this; it will strengthen you.” 


A Modern Evil 


2II 


Mrs. Nevarro, her face troubled and pale, 
sat near fanning her. Lillian had fallen into an 
unquiet sleep; but suddenly opening her eyes, 
with a faint smile, she said: 

“If you all will leave me, I think I can sleep. 
I will call you if I want you.” 

They went out noiselessly. Outside the room 
Mrs. Nevarro burst into tears. “Oh, Serrell, 
why didn’t you prepare me for this ! My darling 
— my child ! She will not live a week !” 

Levare’s face turned a shade paler. 

“We were coming in April,” he said in a low 
tone, “but the doctor told me she could not stand 
the journey. She improved somewhat, and we 
were to start a week ago; but on the night be- 
fore she had a severe hemorrhage, and I was 
afraid to start with her. As soon as she rallied 
she wanted to come right away, and her physi- 
cian said she could make the trip with safety. 
He came on the train with us, and Lillian talked 
to him very cheerfully. The trip has fatigued 
her more than I expected. He says we must be 
prepared for the worst. She is in the last stage 
of consumption.” 

Mrs. Nevarro’s tears flowed afresh. 

“You needn’t tell me that,” she wailed. “I can 
see it all too plainly. Oh, I wish you had never 
left me !” 

“I have done all I could for her. Heaven 
knows. She would not have lasted this long if 
I had not taken her off last winter. She has had 
every attention, and the best physicians that 
could be had. We have all done all we could.” 

He turned and paced restlessly up and down 


212 


A Modern Evil 


the hall. Mrs. Nevarro had fallen upon a couch 
and was sobbing convulsively. 

A short time after a pretty girl opened the gate 
and went softly up the steps. She paused a mo- 
ment at the door; but as soon as he saw her he 
came quickly forward and took her hand warmly. 

“How are you, Eloise 1 ” he asked. “I am glad 
to see you.” 

“How is she?” she said, eagerly. “I have just 
heard that you were here.” 

“Lillian is very ill,” he said gravely. “She will 
never be any better, Eloise. Do not betray any 
surprise when you see her. She has changed 
very much, and she notices everything. Go in 
and see her.” 

She paused for a moment beside the bed. Mrs. 
Nevarro, Mrs. Van and Zida sat near, and the 
expression on the former’s white face touched 
Eloise’s heart. Just then Lillian opened her 
eyes. She held out her hands to Eloise with a 
glad cry. The other knelt down beside the bed 
and took her friend’s head — that proud head so 
lowly laid ! — upon her breast, and kissed her. A 
choking sensation was in her throat — a mist 
blurred her sight. She felt that she should say 
something expressive of her pleasure at seeing 
her again, but she could not ; she could not have 
uttered a word to save her life. 

“I’m so glad to see you, dear,” Lillian said 
weakly, twining two pitifully emaciated arms 
around her neck. “How are you? Sit down 
and talk to me.” 

The girl complied in silence. 

“I wish I could talk to you,’' she continued, 


A Modern Evil 


213 


‘‘but I am too weak.” 

“Yes, dear,” Kloise answered. 

The evening wore on. Lillian had fallen 
asleep. The attending physicians came in 
for the night. A bell in a distant belfry tolled 
mournfully. The sick woman roused herself 
and looked about the room. 

“Serrell?’" she called. “Where is he? I want 
him."’ 

Someone went to the door and beckoned to 
Levare. He came in quickly, quietly; a fright- 
ened expression on his face. He came toward 
the bed and bent over her. 

“What is it, Lillian T’ he asked tenderly. “Did 
you call for me?” 

“Yes,” she said, “sit here,” patting a place be- 
side her. “I don’t want you to leave me again.” 

He sat down and took one of her hands in his. 
Eloise sat near. 

“Raise my head against your shoulder, Ser- 
rell,” she said. “Now, that is all right.” 

1 She stole one thin arm around his neck and 
drew his head down to hers. 

“Serrell, tell me,” she urged, “what do they 
say? The doctors, I mean. Don’t they say I 
can’t last long?” 

He was not prepared for this, and his face be- 
trayed him. Eloise’s lips were trembling. 

' “No, dear,” he replied, “they say you will soon 
be better,” 


214 


A Modern Evil 


He did not look at her as he spoke, fearing 
lest she should guess the truth. 

“Tell me the truth, Serrell,” came that faint, 
pleading voice. “It is cruel to deceive me, and 
I shall not be frightened. I am not afraid to die. 
Look at me,” laying her hand against his face 
and compelling him to look into her eyes. “I 
ask you for the truth. A knowledge of my con- 
dition will make me die no sooner. Didn’t they 
say that I have not long to live ? The truth, Ser- 
rell, please ?” 

God help him! This was the trying moment 
of his life. To the day of his death he will never 
forget it. 

“Yes, Lillian,” he answered hoarsely, “that is 
what they say.” 

She drew him to her still more closely,* and 
held him there almost convulsively. She closed 
her eyes and two tears trickled slowly down her 
cheeks. The moonlight flooded the room, and 
for a moment there was absolute silence. Lil- 
lian opened her eyes. 

“Let them all leave the room — the doctors and 
all,” she said. “I shall not need them any more. 
Let them all leave ; they are only waiting to see 
me die, and I cannot endure it. I want you, Ser- 
rell ; Earle, Eloise, mamma. Aunt Anna and Zida. 
Please ask the others to leave the room.” 

They were shown into the adjoining room — a 
worldly company who could not enter the Valley 
of Death with their friend. 

The city clock boomed the hour of nine. 

“Now,” she said, “turn the lights off, please. 
I want only the moonlight,” 


A Modern Evil 215 

That was done. The small company sat down 
'to keep their sad vigil. 

j “I wonder if I am not dying?” she asked sud- 
jdenly, without fear, however. ‘T feel so strange- 
ly*” 

“No, Lillian,” Serrell answered in a strange, 
.unnatural voice; “you are not dying.” 

I “I believe I am,” she said, “but if this is death 
,it is so different from what I expected. I suf- 
I fer no pain. Do not weep, mother,” suddenly, 
[.holding out one wasted hand to her. “I will not 
^be dead. I will still be conscious and know and 
feel. I was afraid to die before; but I am 
changed. We have been very happy together, 
Serrell, have we not?” 

His arms tightened around her. 

“Yes, Lillian.” 

“After I am gone do not grieve for me. I 
wish it so. I am going to be very happy and I 
‘ could not be if I could know you all were griev- 
ing.” 

Nevarro and his mother were sobbing aloud. 
Five minutes passed. The moonbeams flooded 
the room and fell across the dying girl’s face 
with a weird, unearthly radiance. 

“Serrell,” she said weakly, “I know I am dy- 
ing. No, do not call the others — please don’t! 
Will you pray for me ?” 

“Oh, this is terrible!” Zida sobbed, and sud- 
denly throwing up her hands she fell in a heap 
at Earle’s feet. 

“Poor child!” Lillian said compassionately, as 
they lifted her tenderly and bore her from the 


2i6 


A Modern Evil 


room. ‘‘Keep her out of here, please. It is too 
much for her.’^ 

“Can I do anything for you, Lillian?” Serrell 
asked solicitously. “Pray for me,” she said. 

There was a moment of painful silence — a si- 
lence so intense they could hear her breathing. 

“Dear heart,” he answered brokenly; “do not 
ask me. Shall I send for a minister, Lillian?” 

“No, no,” she said ; “please don’t.” 

There was another moment’s silence. 

“Where is Eloise?” she asked suddenly. 

“Here, Lillian,” the girl said, coming forward ; 
“here I am.” 

The blood rushed to her heart, and then re- 
ceded, leaving her cold and chilly. 

“You will not refuse me, Eloise,” she said. 
“Will you not pray for me?” 

Ah ! woe for luckless, unbelieving humanity ! 
When human aid has failed us what is our first 
impulse ? 

“Will you refuse me, too, dear?” she panted, 
breathlessly. “It is all you can do for me, 
Eloise, and I would be so glad. Do not ask that 
I be spared to life, but that I may have strength 
to die.” 

A great, dry sob broke involuntarily from the 
girl’s lips. 

She fell upon her knees beside the bed and 
buried her face in her hands. There was a deep 
and awful quiet for a moment. Then the sweet 
pleading voice broke the stillness : 

“Merciful God ” her voice broke for a mo- 

ment. Then she went on. “Thou who lovest the 
creatures of thy creation, we Thy benighted, suf- 


A Modern Evil 


217 


faring children, come to Thee for light in times 
like these — in the darkest moments of our lives. 
When human aid has failed us we realize the 
need of Thee. We thank Thee, O God, that 
Thou hast assured us that we are never chastened 
in anger, but in love. Father, be with us now! 
Be with her whose spirit is leaving this earthly 
tenement — she who so much desires an assur- 
ance of Thy Divine Presence in this dark hour. 
Take her by the hand. Lord. Tell her that Thou, 
too, hast passed through it all and live again. 
Teach her that there is indeed no death — merely 
the passing of the immortal spirit from one ex- 
istence to another; another more pure and ex- 
alted. Death is beautiful ! Father, teach us to 
see it. Give her soul faith to trust all to Thee. 
Our God — Thou God of all love and all mercy ! 
We who are but poor worms of the dust would 
help her if we could. Our love is as nothing 
compared to Thine. We yield her up to Thy 
keeping; receive her to thy loving bosom, where 
she will know no more pain nor sorrow nor tears 
nor bitter partings forever, but shall dwell in 
peace and joy unspeakable forevermore. Sanc- 
tify our loss to our soul’s eternal good. Lord, 
we should be resigned, feeling that Thou must 
have loved her very dearly to call her thus early. 
Hear us Lord, we ask for Jesus’ sake. Amen.” 

A pitiful, heart-broken wail issued from Mrs. 
Nevarro’s white lips. Eloise rose and bent over 
Lillian. She was gone! A moment later the 
others came in. Eloise stood for a moment be- 
side Serrell, looking at the calm dead face. He 
turned and walked hurriedly out of the room. 


2i8 


A Modern Evil 


She looked so calm, so happy. In the solemn 
hush that followed, Eloise almost fancied that 
she heard the rushing sweep of angel’s wings. 
She almost imagined that she heard the sound of 
heavenly music as the Golden Gate was swung 
open to admit another soul. She stood trying to 
realize that just one short moment ago those 
silent lips had spoken — those beautiful sightless 
eyes had looked upon them all. Now it was all 
over forever, and it was only dust that lay be- 
fore them. Lillian’s soul had passed : 

“Into the land of the great Departed, 

Into the Silent Land !” 


A Modern Evil 


219 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

AN UNFORTUNATE FRIEND. 

A year has gone by. Zida and Earle have been 
quietly married. Serrell and Jack were away 
from home. The former had left shortly after 
his wife’s death, and was now visiting friends 
and distant relatives in different parts of Vir- 
ginia. Jack was “out West,” for he had been a 
hero just as long as he could; but the flesh is 
very weak, and he felt that it would be a great 
temptation to see her every day and know that 
he could never make love to her as in the old 
days. So two weeks after her marriage he had 
taken himself out West in answer to a telegram 
stating that his maternal grandparent was not 
expected to live and desired his presence. When 
he arrived at his destination he found that she 
was dead, and that he was sole heir to fifty thou- 
sand dollars in money and real estate. It had 
come at last, he thought bitterly, but like most 
of the good things of life it had come too late. 
He converted the property into money, and im- 
mediately wrote Eloise a long letter, enclosing a 
check for five thousand. He was now roaming 
over the “ Woolly West, " whithersoever his fancy 
listed. Earle and Zida had moved into the mag- 
nificent brownstone residence, which he had 


220 A Modern Evil 

liad erected, and Zida was now mistress of her 
own household. 

Eloise still remained with Mrs. Maxcy for 
company. She was very much alone now, and 
she wrote a great deal. Her writing kept her 
from brooding over much. A letter which came 
by the evening post had plunged Eloise into a 
fit of depression. It was addressed in a delicate 
chirography, and bore the postmark of a distant 
city. She looked at it a moment; then drawing 
the closely written sheets forth, her eyes grew 
misty while she read : 

“My Dear Eloise: Your letter has been for- 
warded to me from A . The reason I did 

not answer your note is because since our paths 
have so widely severed, and my life has so 
changed, I didn’t think you would care to claim 
me as an acquaintance, less still as a friend. “Yes, 
what you heard is quite true. I am Gerard Bal- 
lette’s wife no longer, and therein lies a story 
which I am going to tell you now, if you will 
listen. I had not been married more than two 
months before I discovered that Gerard was 
growing away from me. I pray God you may 
never suffer what I did, Eloise, when this 
knowledge came to me. You know how I loved 
him and perhaps you can imagine what effect 
this had upon me. Suffice it to say that the 
world little knew of the lives we lived. People 
talked about my being so light-hearted, I may 
have appeared so ; I was far from feeling what I 
seemed then. You know, Eloise, that I was too 
proud to suffer this separation without the grav- 
est possible cause; so I suffered in silence, and 


A Modern Evil 


221 


when the world thought I was so light-hearted 
my heart was broken. You remember that after 
a while people began to comment on Gerard’s 
never accompanying me anywhere. I had begged 
him so often to go with me, but he always pleaded 
a previous engagement, and he would never 
break these engagements, even when he knew 
them as the price of my happiness. Then all my 
pride rose in revolt at his indiiference, and my 
love died. Do not open your eyes so wide, Eloise, 
for I assure you, in spite of all protestations to 
the contrary, that real love can die. He won me 
by pretending to be what he is not; and when 
I learned how he had deceived me my respect for 
him died, and there can be no love with a woman 
like me where there is no respect — they are 
synoymous terms, you know. So I did not try 
to persuade him to change his course but once, 
for experience has taught me that when the path 
of duty is plainly pointed out to a man or woman, 
and they are made to see it, and yet will not 
abide by it, remonstrances are worse than use- 
less. If they have not enough self-respect to try 
to conform to this, they are not worth the trou- 
ble of trying to convince them. Is not that true ? 
But the night before I left him, I made up my 
mind that I would convince myself as to what 
the nature of these “binding engagements” were. 
So when he went out that night I followed, and 
soon discovered that my husband’s life contained 
a chapter in which I played no part. The next 
day I told him that we could no longer live in any 
degree of happiness, and that it would be better 
for us to part. He must have thought I was jest- 


222 


A Modern Evil 


ing, for he treated my words with contempt. But 
when he came in at noon and found that I had 
packed my trunk, he began to see that I meant 
to do as I had said. Then he was ridiculous. He 
said that without his consent no one would give 
me shelter under pain of penalty. Think of that, 
Eloise ! That from a strong independent man to 
a helpless woman ! He said that even if I did 
leave him as long as I was not divorced I would 
be subject to his commands. That reveals to 
you his real nature — the underlying meanness of 
his disposition. Yet all semblance of pride had 
not deserted him, for he did not wish me to leave 
him, though he cared nothing for me, he still had 
a slight regard for the world’s opinion. Then 
how coarse he was ! We had not a trait in com- 
mon. Surely a more incongenial match was 
never made ! But, Eloise, if he had only treated 
me with consideration — as though I had feeling; 
if he had only respected me even tho’ his love 
were dead, I would have remained with him, so 
great was my dread of the publicity which a sep- 
aration would naturally call forth. I wish to 
God I had not married him. But it is too late 
now. Why does Heaven allow an innocent con- 
fiding woman to be deceived ? 

“My first great disappointment came when I 
went to my aunt in my trouble and she turned 
coldly from me, saying I had disgraced her — 
that I was the first to bring shame upon an un- 
stained and noble name. A man may treat his 
wife with less consideration than he would treat 
a dog, and yet if she goes for succor and protec- 
tion to some of your so-called Christians, they 


A Modern Evil 


223 


will tell her to go back to her husband and 'try 
to live right !’ Live right, indeed ! As tho’ it 
were possible for a woman to live right with a 
beast. Then the law, that instrument of justice 
steps in and says: ‘She is your wife — your chat- 
tel, more properly speaking; treat her as your 
brutal nature would suggest — you are the lord 
of creation, she is merely your slave, and the 
world is so uncharitable to divorced women that 
if she has one vestige of pride or self-respect she 
will suffer martyrdom rather than incur the dis- 
pleasure of its scathing criticism and insulting 
insinuations.' Some women deem it more hon- 
orable to desecrate the marriage tie by remain- 
ing under their husband’s roof, though they mu- 
tually loathe each other, than to come boldly out 
and denounce his utter worthlessness and show 
her contempt for him and for worldly criticism 
by obtaining a divorce. The honor which prompts 
us to live a perpetual lie is of a bogus consist- 
ency; and that which we call by that name to- 
day is the quality that forbids us to enjoy any of 
the sweets of life, and makes of us a living sac- 
rifice. I do believe that if after death I am con- 
signed to hell my eternity will be spent with a 
man whom I do not love — whose every action, 
taste and word is insufferably hateful to me ; that 
I will be compelled to share his bed and submit 
to his loathsome caresses, and still be forced to 
wear a smile and pretend to enjoy it all in order 
to make His Satanic Majesty and his angels 
think me happy and respect me. That is the 
worst possible hell of which I can conceive — the 
extreme quintessence of supreme torture! Such 


224 


A Modern Evil 


a life is degrading to any man or woman. It is 
moral suicide. It renders distasteful the most 
sacred relationship of life — ravishes every pure 
passion. Yet I have dared to do that which I 
deem the only truly honorable thing to be done 
under such conditions — seek relief in the divorce 
courts — and I have paid the penalty. From the 
multitude of friends which I once knew not one, 
save yourself, has deigned to write me a line, or 
to interest themselves in any way in my behalf. 
So much for your worldy friendships. Adver- 
sity or real sorrow always tries our friends, and 
they have proven that I have but one.” 

Eloise folded the letter and replaced it. Two 
big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. Her 
life thus far had been a failure. Out of all her 
grand resolves no good had come. Ah, well ! 
she would do the best she could. Heaven could 
expect no more of her. She had suspected that 
all was not well with Zida. She was no longer 
the light-hearted, careless creature as of yore. 
Earle, too, she fancied, seemed unhappy. They 
had been married half a year. That afternoon 
Zida and Earle called to see her. 

“I had a letter from Serrell to-day,” Earle 
said, after they had been talking a few moments. 

“Really?” Eloise said, looking up quickly. 
“How and where is he ?” 

“In Richmond now and he speaks of coming 
home soon.” 

The girl was afraid that she had displayed too 
much interest, and her face was suffused with 
humiliating color. She let her gaze roam across 
the street, fearing to look at him then lest her 


A Modern Evil 


225 


face should betray her secret. It seemed as if a 
leaden weight had been suddenly lifted from her 
heart. Zida was talking. Eloise heard, but did 
not catch her meaning; her words were without 
import to her. She raised her eyes and met 
those of Nevarro. In that brief instant she real- 
ized that her secret was no longer her own. 
Knowing this, there was a look of appeal in her 
eyes as her look met his. He comprehended and 
smiled. Zida was unaware of this wordless con- 
versation. She presently stood up, saying it was 
time for them to go. 

“Do not leave me,” Eloise said, rising, too. 
“Stay and take tea with me. I shall be all alone, 
you know.” 

Zida readily acquiesced, saying as she did so, 
that she would go inside to play. Twilight was 
falling. Nevarro left his seat and took the one 
which Zida had just vacated. 

“I have been very blind, Eloise,” he said ten- 
derly. “I might have seen this all along. That 
was the reason you could not care for me. I was 
completely thrown off my guard. I am very 
thankful that my sister never knew she was an 
unloved wife. That accounts for Levare’s mor- 
bidness during the engagement. Looking back 
I can remember so many things to confirm it 
all. I was a blind fool not to see it. Poor fel- 
low ! Poor old boy !” musingly. “How he must 
have suffered ! It will be all right yet, dear. You 
will be happy yet. Heaven always blesses people 
like you. It may be long in coming, but it will 
come at last, never fear. If I had led a different 
life, I, too, might have hoped. My destiny is ir- 


226 


A Modern Evil 


revocably sealed. There is no happiness for me.’^ 

The girl made no reply to this sad admission. 
After a moment’s pause he went on : 

“You remember you said once that I ought to 
be happy? You surely cannot say that now, 
knowing,’ as you do, all my disappointments. I 
have been unfortunate from the start; that is, in 
matters of the heart,” with the ghost of a smile ; 
“and money alone was never known to fill an 
empty heart and life. Of late another sorrow 
has entered my life ” 

He broke off as if the memory were too cruel. 

“I will forbear to mention that I fear the 
world will know it soon enough.” 

There was a long silence after that. Some- 
thing touched across the girl’s heart, stinging like 
fire. It was quite dark now. From the draw- 
ing room Zida’s voice reached them. She was 
singing a plaintive old love song — a song that in 
the old days she would have scorned — and Eloise 
never remembered having heard her sing with so 
much feeling before. It was a hopeless little air, 
with a sobbingly pathetic refrain. Earle heaved 
a quick sigh. A sudden fear came over Eloise. 
Was Zida beginning to see — alas, too late ! — 
how unendurable a life without love can be? 
That night in her room Zida nervously paced the 
floor. Her hands were clasped before her con- 
vulsively, though she did not weep — she was too 
miserable for that. There is an agony so utterly 
hopeless that it will not admit of tears. In the 
stillness of midnight Earle Nevarro woke. He 
lay awake listening a while ; then certain that 
something was wrong, he sprang out of bed and 


A Modern Evil 


227 


made his way to his wife’s room. He pushed the 
door open, and was startled at the white, agon- 
ized face which she raised to his. 

“Why, Zida,” he exclaimed in alarm, “how pale 
you are! What is the matter? Are you ill?” 

“Oh, no,” she almost cried, resting her head 
upon his shoulder; “it is nothing only my head 
hurts and I can’t sleep.” 

“Why didn’t you waken me?” very tenderly. 
“Would you let me sleep while you are suffer- 
ing? Let me send for a physician?” 

“No,” she said, shaking her head ; “I will be 
better soon. Go back to your room.” 

“Let me stay with you. Lie down and let me 
watch beside you.” 

“I don’t want you to remain, Earle ; I am not 
very ill, and I am going to lie down now. I 
think I can sleep.” 

He looked at her a moment silently; a pitiful 
expression of entreaty on his pale face. But find- 
ing that all persuasion was useless, he went out, 
closing the door behind him. Zida fell across 
her bed without undressing, and for an hour she 
moaned and sobbed unceasingly. Then ex- 
hausted, nature asserted itself, and she fell into a 
fitful slumber. In her dream she saw the face of 
the man she loved ; his eyes were fixed upon her 
face reproachfully; they burned into her soul. 
That passed, and before her eyes there passed 
the glitter of gold, and she heard its empty jin- 
gle. The next day the mail contained a short, 
pathetic letter, blotted with tears. Love and 
Pride had had a fierce struggle for the mastery, 
and — Love had won ! 


228] 


'A Modern Evil "^ 


Someone far away had read that letter, and had 
halted between two opinions, and ^‘he who hesi- 
tates is lost” we know. The battle between right 
and wrong had been very brief. The outgoing 
Eastbound train saw Jack Venarez a passenger 
on his way home. 


A Modern Evil 


229 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A NARROW ESCAPE. 

The week following the Nevarros were giving 
a reception. It was the first time since their mar- 
riage that the doors of their luxurious home had 
been thrown open for the entertainment of their 
friends. Zida, in a bewildering gown of white 
silk moved among her guests with a peculiarly 
uneasy, half-expectant, half-regretful expression 
on her pretty face. Earle stood apart from the 
others with his elbow propped upon the mantel. 
His eyes followed his wife with an expression 
pitiful in its regret. He felt intuitively that he 
could never fill the void in her heart and life; 
and the knowledge of this softened him toward 
her as nothing else could have done. 

Time passed. Zida feeling a vague uneasiness, 
moved across to her husband’s side. He looked 
down at her with a smile, which she returned 
mechanically; and knowing what it cost her, it 
hurt him more than her tears would have done. 

“Are you not feeling well, little girl?” he 
asked solicitously, noting her peculiar nervous- 
ness, and extreme restlessness. 

, “Suppose you slip away and be quiet a few 
moments ? Fm sure you will be excused.” 

I “I was just going to tell you, Earle,” she said. 


230 


A Modern Evil 


“that I feel strangely, and my head hurts. If 
you do not mind I believe I will go to my room a 
few moments. I will not be missed and will soon 
return.” 

He pressed her hand silently, and she turned 
and made her way across the room, a miserable 
premonition of evil at her heart. Earle gazed 
after her in acute mental agony. 

Poor little girl ! It was slowly killing her ; and 
yet he had tried to render himself dear to her in 
every way that he could think of. How long 
would she hold out? 

As she was passing down the hall a servant 
accosted her. 

“Here is a letter for you, madam,” she said, 
bowing respectfully. “I was told to give it into 
your own hands.” 

She moved away, and Zida paused under the 
many-colored lights of the chandelier, and with 
fingers which trembled violently, drew the slip of 
paper forth and read: 

“Zida : Come to me at once. I shall await you 
in the conservatory. Jack.” 

She put up one hand to her head in dismay, 
leaning weakly against the wall. She read the 
hastily scrawled lines again. Yes, it was true. 
Jack was there. What his mission was she could 
not trust herself to think. But he was near her. 
Thank God for that, at least ! The blood rushed 
to her heart, in the unreasonably mad torrent of 
indescribable bliss which she felt at seeing him 
again. Then with the realization of the horrible 
sin that she might be tempted to commit, she felt 
weak and exhausted, and conflicting emotions 


A Modern Evil 


231 


crowded upon her brain. She thought of the 
man she had left — the man who placed enough 
confidence in her to trust his honor to her keep- 
ing, and she glanced behind her like a guilty 
thing, and crushed the paper in her hands. Think- 
ing of his perfect trust, for the moment she felt 
quite strong and fully able to act her honorable 
part; for nothing begets love and true respect 
like the knowledge that someone has faith in us 
and often times when one’s inclinations are more 
or less evil one is led to act uprightly for the sake 
of that perfect trust reposed in one. On the 
other hand, there is nothing more calculated to 
urge one on to ruin, nothing more damning to 
morality, than to be watched and mistrusted by 
those who should trust us most; and the suspi- 
cious husband or wife makes a fatal mistake 
when he or she unthoughtedly adopts this policy. 
If one’s habits are by nature a little wild, suspi- 
cion will but confirm them, while the creature 
who would be insensible to the sacred possession 
of perfect confidence must be base indeed. Zida 
passed through her own room and the soft, 
shaded glow of her lamp fell across her face and 
showed it resolute and determined. In spite of 
her love for Jack, she must send him away; noth- 
ing else remained for her. And yet ! Heaven be 
merciful to her! She well knew her own weak- 
ness; and better still did she know the powerful 
influence which this man had over her. Once 
the thought occurred to her to send for Earle 
and confess all, beg his forgiveness, and ask him 
to send Jack away. Earle was so generous, so 
forgiving; she felt sure of his pardon. ’Twere 


232 A Modern Evil 

well for the young wife if she had decided upon 
this course ; her good angel hovered very near at 
that moment. But feeling strong she threw a 
lace shawl over her bare shoulders and passing 
through the back corridor she entered the gar- 
dens, and then she paused irresolute. The man 
she loved was standing only a few yards from 
her ; his hands were thrust deep into his pockets, 
and his eyes were bent upon the ground. In the 
bright moonlight his face looked troubled and 
old. Perhaps he was thinking of the irreparable 
wrong which he was about to do the man who 
had always been his friend. But usually when a 
woman is in the case friendship and all kindred 
attachments count for naught. He felt cow- 
ardly, low, contemptible ! He owned to himself 
that he was a scoundrel, and cursed himself ac- 
cordingly. Where were all his good resolutions 
— his honor ? Where his boasted strength of will ? 
In his all-absorbing adoration for this woman his 
will power was not worth a straw. The time had 
come to him as it comes to most of us when we 
either show ourselves a master or a victim of 
circumstances ; when Passion makes of us either 
a master or a slave, and it found him a con- 
science-stricken and unwilling servant. How 
guilty he felt as he stood there ! And yet there 
comes a time in most of our lives when conscience 
sleeps — when the one grand impulse of nature 
overrules all lesser virtues. Jack Venarez had 
come to that time now. If Earle Nevarro had 
come upon the scene then he would have shot 
him. And yet a better-hearted fellow never lived. 
There are some men who resist such temptations 


A Modern Evil 233 

as this — the cold, passionless kind to whom temp- 
tation is only a name — they have nothing to re- 
sist, they fight no battle and consequently win no 
victory — therefore their resistance is not owing to 
their strength of will, as we so often erroneously 
suppose, but rather owing to the fact that this 
one passion is not the predominating principle of 
their existence. Whenever this is the case we 
usually find that will power, pride, honor and 
good resolutions are quite overruled. 

He was not aware of Zida’s presence until she 
was near enough to touch him, had she so de- 
sired. Then he turned and grasped her out- 
stretched hands eagerly. Their touch sent the 
blood surging through him like fire. The thought 
that he was a scoundrel forsook him. That the 
carrying out of his intentions meant the desecra- 
tion of a home had no effect upon him now. He 
drew her forcibly to him, and for a moment 
neither of them spoke. Zida’s good angel had 
flown. She was too weak to resist, so she lay in 
his embrace feeling that she could bravely face 
the world’s contempt and scorn for the bliss of 
enjoying this man’s love and caresses. Had she 
forbidden him to touch her she would have been 
safe. When the power and magnetism of per- 
sonal contact is more thoroughly understood — 
especially as it exists between opposite sexes, a 
more guarded course of society will be adopted. 

Zida’s voice broke the stillness. 

“Jack, why did you come?” 

“Why did you send for me, Zida?” 

After this first exchange of interrogative 


234 


A Modern Evil 


greetings there was silence. They both seemed 
at a loss for words. Time was passing. 

The guests had missed Zida, and Earle had 
pleaded for her sudden indisposition ; yet he won- 
dered why she did not return. He left the bril- 
liant throng, his heart full of apprehension lest 
his wife were ill, and made his way to her room. 
. . . Zida and Jack were in the sitting-room. 

‘T came, Zida; yes,” he was saying, “knowing 
full well that I should not have done so. I could 
not do otherwise. It is wrong, Zida, all wrong.” 

“I know it,” she said, bursting into tears. “I 
know we will be punished for this, too; and yet, 
Jack, pity me ; I couldn’t help it ! I am a wretch ; 
but oh, I did not know when I married Earle that 
it would be so hard to live with a man whom I 
didn’t love. He is so kind, so attentive; and to 
think I am deceiving him ! It is torture ! Yet 
how can I endure this life? His very touch is 
repulsive to me. It is a mistake to imagine that 
friendship or good fellowship can take the place 
of love. You don’t know what I have suffered. 
You would pity me if you knew all. Don’t look 
at me so. Jack ; you are breaking my heart ! Why 
didn’t they save me from this ?” 

“You chose your own destiny,” he said bit- 
terly, regretfully; “you should be able to abide 
by it.” 

His humiliated pride forced him to a kind of 
bitter irony. He loved her much and she had 
hurt him deeply. We take a peculiar, fiendish 
pleasure in avenging ourselves upon those we 
love by taunting them with their mistake, for any 


A Modern Evil 


235 

wrong, fancied or real, which they may have 
done us. 

There was a moment’s silence. Then Jack 
spoke : 

“You did me a cruel wrong, Zida,” he said at 
last, “but I am your slave. You know that too 
well and you showed your power once. But I 
dare say you have suffered as much in conse- 
quence as I. Zida,” passionately, “I love you so 
well that I would risk the fires of torment for 
your sake. I would have come to you from the 
other side of the world had you bidden me, and 
you know it, and knowing this you decided upon 
a marriage with Nevarro. Well,” he continues 
ironically, “he had money and I had not. That 
makes a great difference. Love was weighed in 
the balance and found wanting. I can never quite 
outlive that,” he went on with bitterness. “I am 
here now in imminent danger of my life ; for 
should your husband know this one of us would 
be murdered.” 

“Jack, you are cruel!” she shuddered. “Oh, 
horrors 1 What if you should be the one ?” 

“Well, you do care for me, after all,” he said, 
heaving a quick sigh of relief, “and as you have 
never loved any other man, I feel the compli- 
ment.” 

He laughed mirthlessly. The laugh jarred on 
Zida. 

“Do you doubt it. Jack?” she questioned quick- 
ly. “Have I not proven it to you ?” 

“I thank God that you do care for me,” he said 
suddenly, sobering. “No, I do not doubt it now, 
Zida, though I once did. You have risked too 


A Modern Evil 


236 

much for me, to admit of any doubt on that 
score ; and I am glad I am the only man you ever 
loved, even tho’ we both suffer for it. Few men 
can be insensible to such an honor. Now I have a 
proposition. It is this. You must get ready as 
quickly and quietly as possible and leave here 
with me to-night forever. We have but a short 
time ; daylight must not find us here. It does not 
matter what the world may say,” he urged, not- 
ing her momentary hesitation. “The world’s 
good opinion will not compensate us for our 
wasted lives. Choose which you will. As for 
me I shall worship at the shrine of Love. It is 
my religion, and nothing else is worth living for. 
I would sacrifice wealth, position, friends — 
everything for love. I offer you your choice. If 
you stay here you will have wealth and a surfeit 
of friends as friends go ; but you will suffer hell.” 

A shadow fell across the door for a moment, 
then disappeared. 

“Please do not tempt me. Jack,” she pleaded. 
“I cannot be so base. It is too late. I couldn’t 
resist the temptation of speaking to you again, 
but you must not forget that my fate is to suffer 
— my doom is sealed.” 

The guests were taking their departure. Zida 
never knew until long after that her husband 
had come to the door in search of her, and com- 
prehending all at a glance, had returned to the 
drawing-room and had answered inquiries con- 
cerning herself that she was no better, and would 
be unable to leave her room again that night. 

“You do not care for me then,” Jack said, ris- 
ing and flinging her hand off his sleeve. Your 


A Modern Evil 


love is only a pretence. You merely sent for me 
to see if I was still under your power. You are 
still trying to flirt with me. I should think you 
would have enough of that by this,” he went on 
with a peculiar laugh, half suppressed. “You 
will never have another opportunity, Zida. I 
cared enough for you to come for you ; to risk my 
life that you might be out of your present unhap- 
piness ; and this is the way you are repaying me. 
Very well ; ’tis better so I suppose. Tell me good- 
bye, Zida. I will never come again. In all prob- 
ability we will never meet again; I hope so, at 
least. You need never write for me. I will never 
come again, to be made a fool of. Good-bye !” 

“Stop, Jack,” she begged, placing herself in 
his way ; “don’t go yet, please.” 

Could she see him pass out of her life forever ? 
Could she settle back to that old life? — that dull 
despair ? And had not Earle told her that he had 
no heart to give her ? 

She had allowed herself to imagine the bliss of 
this new life which opened before her, and that 
rendered the other doubly unendurable. 

“Come back to-morrow morning. Jack,” she 
said. “I shall be ready. It shall be as you wish.” 

A moment later the young man had flung him- 
self out into the darkness. As he nervously 
opened the gate someone touched his arm. He 
turned on his heel; at the same time his hand 
instinctively went to his pocket. 

“Jack,” someone said in a broken undertone, 
“do not fear me. I am your friend.” 

“You, Nevarro?” the other exclaimed incredu- 
lously. “Where have you been?” 


2sS 


A Modern Evil 


“I have seen and heard all, Jack,” the man went 
on. “I have seen the dear, little girl’s struggle 
between love and pride. I have seen your love 
for her ; and I realize that I am the barrier that 
stands between you both and happiness. What 
am I to do ? I cannot take my life. I might have 
done so two years ago, but someone has taught 
me that life does not end in death. I pity you 
both. Jack, and I do not blame you. Human na- 
ture is weak ; or sometimes in cases like this it is 
strong as death. I know how it is myself. I 
have been there and I know what it means ; but 
where you yielded to the temptation I did not. 
Perhaps you loved more. Jack, I wish I were 
dead and out of the way. I am surely the most 
miserable man upon God’s earth to-night. I can 
only appeal to your generosity. Spare me this 
humiliation — this crowning sorrow. Remember 
the oath we took one year ago to-night. Remem- 
ber the knight’s pledge of honor and spare me.” 

“You need say no more, Nevarro,” Jack said. 
“I have never known how to value a man of your 
stamp before. I hardly know what to think of 
you even now. If I ever met you again I ex- 
pected to meet you as a deadly enemy. I don’t 
know what to say to you. I was about to do you 
a great injury, but forgive me. The temptation 
was great. God helping me, I will never cause 
another human creature the pain I have caused 
you to-night. If I am not too contemptible I 
hope you will give me your hand in assurance of 
your forgiveness.” 

Nevarro clasped the outstretched hand. 

“Yes, I forgive you, Jack, fully, freely. I for- 


A Modern Evil 


239 


give you both. You remember God forgave a 
certain poor, erring woman much, because she 
loved much. For like reason do I forgive you. 
You must give her up. Jack, since she cannot you. 
I have known men and women whose general 
principles were above reproach — models of good- 
ness, and yet when it came to the power of mu- 
tual attraction, they resisted but feebly.’^ 

They stood thus a moment in silence. It was a 
long good-bye as well as a mutual compact of 
future friendship. A straggling gleam of light 
from one of the windows fell across their faces 
as they stood there, and showed them as white as 
that of a corpse. Five minutes later a man flung 
himself face down upon the grass. God, pity him 
now ! What earthly power can aid him ? 

It takes many and varied forms of suffering to 
change some men. But when an hour later Earle 
Nevarro made his way to his room he was totally 
different from the Earle of other days. As he 
passed down the hall the dim lights showed him 
the picture of despair — a prematurely old and 
broken man. 


240 


A Modern feviL 


CHAPTER XX. 

FOR another's wrong. 

“Take thy banner ! May it wave 
Proudly o’er the good and brave ; 

Take thy banner ! and beneath 
The battle clouds encircling wreath, 

Guard it ! — till our homes are free ! 

Guard it ! — God will prosper thee !” 

— Longfellow. 

The summer had passed into winter, and win- 
ter into spring. The peaceful calm that had 
reigned over our beloved land for more than 
thirty years was broken by the roll of drums and 
the steady tramp of marching. Special trains 
and war boats carried our soldier boys away to 
fight a foreign foe. Old memories that had been 
allowed to sleep for more than a quarter of a 
century were brought forcibly back to those who 
witnessed and lived during our last bloody strug- 
gle, by the camps, the tented fields and the boys’ 
uniforms. The time had come to say “Good- 
bye!” 

Fond husbands kissed their wives good-bye, 
perhaps for the last time. Sweethearts did the 
same and made tender promises that were never 
to be forgotten. Earle Nevarro had enlisted. He 


A Modern Evil 


241 


left with the hope of never returning. Serrell 
Levare volunteered also, and Jack Venarez, who 
was out west at the time, joined the fearless 
“Rough Riders” and went forth to the conflict. 
North, South, East and West came boldly to the 
front and offered their services. Nerved by a 
righteous hate they came forward as one body. 
It was a beautiful morning when Earle and Ser- 
rell joined their regiment and were carried away 
to the scene of the conflict. Nevarro had gone 
to Eloise on the night before. 

“Good-bye, Eloise,” he said, when the time had 
come to leave, “I may never see you again, little 
girl ; but do not forget me. Knowing what I do, 
life to me is almost impossible. I have nothing 
now for which to live. Comfort my poor Zida 
as much as you can. I hope for her sake I may 
never come back.” 

“Do not say that,” the girl said. “It would 
grieve Zida very much if anything were to hap- 
pen to you. You are going to fight in a just 
cause, and ‘while our soldier boys are fighting we 
can only pray’ — you know. You are worthy of 
your position, Earle. You will do well. Let us 
hear from you occasionally.” 

It had been a great sorrow to Eloise when she 
had learned of the sad affair in which her brother 
and Zida were concerned. She was shocked and 
bitterly hurt. After the boys were gone she and 
Zida were much together. The months dragged 
slowly by and it was now summer. They heard 
from the soldiers often. Earle had written sev- 
eral letters. In one of them he said Serrell had 
been promoted to the rank of lieutenant. He said 


242 


A Modern Evil 


they were lying in wait, preparing for a hot fight 
in a few days. Eloise had just been reading a 
newspaper account of a fierce battle fought a few 
days previous, and of the great demand for 
trained nurses. She threw the paper from her, 
and sat gazing thoughtfully into space. 

They were in Zida’s magnificently furnished 
sitting-room — she and Zida. Mrs. Van and Mrs. 
Nevarro were sitting out on the veranda. 

“Zida,"’ Eloise spoke suddenly, “why couldn’t 
we study to be nurses and go to Cuba?” 

“Nurses?” the other echoed incredulously. “I 
couldn’t. The sight of blood always makes me 
ill. I couldn’t dress a wound.” 

“Well, I coulu, I think,” Eloise said. “Some- 
one has to attend to it; and if the wounded can 
be£ ' to suffer it, I think I can bear to see it. Our 
dear ones are there and are just as liable to be 
wounded as any other; and what a comfort it 
would be to them and to us if we could be near 
them. I really think I shall go.” 

After a fierce conflict on a distant battlefield, 
under a burning, tropical sun, a soldier wearing 
the uniform of an officer, sat beneath the shade of 
a palm and drew from his pocket a soiled letter, 
almost worn out with being folded so often, and 
scanned its contents. It was blistered and blot- 
ted with tears, and a peculiarly tender expression 
came into his eyes as he read. It closed with 
this sentence : 

“Take the best possible care of yourself, Earle, 
and I pray how soon this cruel war may end, so 
you can come back to me. I miss you dread- 
fully, Your sorrowing Zida,” 


A Modern Evil 


243 


Throughout a hot, sultry day, during a very 
bloody and disastrous fight, the wounded were be- 
ing brought in. The patient nurses moved 
among the sick and wounded like angels of mer- 
cy. Among them there is one face very familiar 
to us. In the true eyes and sweet smile we recog- 
nize Eloise. She stood beside the narrow bed 
whereon lay the young soldier who when we last 
saw him was reading that pathetic letter, and 
whose face showed what he had suffered. He 
was mortally wounded, and ever and anon a deep 
groan burst involuntarily from his white lips. 

‘‘Are you in much pain, Earle ?” came the sweet 
voice at his side. “May I do anything else for 
you now?” 

“Nothing but sit down beside me,” he said. 

She did as he requested, and slipping one arm 
under his shoulders, drew his head against hers, 
while with her disengaged hand she gently 
stroked the thick, blonde hair from his forehead. 
A cool, sea breeze had risen, and the moonlight 
was almost as bright as day. 

“Tell her, Eloise,” he said, “that I forgive her 
freely, and that she must forgive herself. Poor 
little girl ! She is worrying unnecessarily, and I 
could not rest in my grave if I knew that she re- 
proached herself. Everything is hers, to do with 
as she pleases. Mother will have enough to live 
comfortably the rest of her life ; and Aunt Anna 
will live with Zida. Poor little woman ! We both 
have suffered from that unfortunate marriage; 
she more than I. I am dying, dear. My good 
angel, I owe you much. All that I am I owe to 


244 


A Modern Evil 


afraid to die now. Eloise, you will never know 
how much I love you ; no one knows but God. I 
have often wondered why He did not grant me 
your love. But, dear one, I have much for which 
to be thankful, inasmuch as I have known the 
friendship of such a woman as you. Your influ- 
ence has been a benediction on my life, and know- 
ing this I am constrained to believe that I have 
not been forgotten.” 

He drew his ring from his finger — the one 
Eloise had worn — and slipped it on her hand. 

“Wear it always, dear. No other woman has 
ever worn it. It has been my talisman. Let it 
be a reminder of a soul which had been turned 
from disbelief to Christianity through your influ- 
ence. I hope that I may know you in another 
life, Eloise ; and I believe I will. I shall wait for 
you, for Heaven would contain no happiness for 
me unless I recognized my loved ones. Perhaps 
up there all our sorrows here will be explained. 
Dear heart will you not kiss me good-bye? I 
have always wanted to kiss you, and now it can 
do no harm. It will not be showing any disloy- 
alty to Zida. Remember, it is a dying man who 
asks you, and it is for the last time.” 

The tears were raining down Eloise’s face. She 
bent her head and her lips met those of the man 
who had loved her so fondly, but alas ! so hope- 
lessly. 

“I consider it a special dispensation of Provi- 
dence that you are with me now,” he said, with 
deep satisfaction, as her cheek rested for a mo- 
ment against his. “I can ask for nothing more.” 

There was a moment’s silence. 


A Modern Evil 


245 

^‘When you come bring her, dear,” the dying 
man said. “Do not come without her.” 

His breath was coming in short gasps ; a damp 
dew was on his face. 

“Tell them all good-bye for me, and, Eloise, if 
Jack comes out alive remember it is my last re- 
quest that he and Zida marry and be happy.” 

He was still a moment — very still. The pale 
moon climbed slowly up the Heavens, and flooded 
the room with light. The memory of another 
death bed rose up before Eloise. His lips moved 
a moment. The girl bent lower. 

“Earle?” she called softly. “Earle, do you 
hear me?” 

He opened his eyes and they rested upon her 
face. A bright smile played across his lips. 

“Yes, yes !” he answered feebly. ^T would hear 
your voice — even amid the joys of Paradise !” 

His face was illumined as the face of an angel. 
Seized with a sudden impulse of infinite pity the 
girl bent forward and kissed him. Thus that for 
which he would have bartered his soul during 
life was given him voluntarily as he stood upon 
the threshold of eternity. When she raised her 
head again she called him softly. There was no 
reply. Earle Nevarro was no more! As the 
realization burst upon her that he was indeed 
gone — that never again in life would her path 
cross his, a feeling of indescribable loneliness 
came over her heart, and with an exceeding bitter 
cry the girl buried her face in the pillow beside 
his, and wept unrestrainedly. A few moments 
passed thus. Then calmness came to her aid, 
and she raised her face and gazed upon the one 


246 


A Modern Evil 


before her long and earnestly. He knew now 
something of the veiled mysteries of that mysteri- 
ous hereafter. He and she had talked and won- 
dered so often what came with the end of life as 
we know it here. It was not possible for the 
dead to return, the girl reasoned, as she stood 
sadly beside the corpse of the man who had loved 
1 er so devotedly, or at some time our loved ones 
would return to us, if only through infinite pity, 
to console and tell us what it is to enjoy Heaven 
and the smile of God. Or did they remember us 
at all? Or was there any consciousness after 
death? Yes, yes! Perish the thought! What 
had he seen at last to cause that angelic peace and 
hope which shone in his eyes as his life went out ? 
What means that look of unspeakable rapture 
which we so often see upon the faces of our loved 
ones after death? Nothing in life can ever pro- 
duce it. Oh, faithful heart that was true unto 
death ! Let us hope that the unspeakable peace 
which you now enjoy compensates you a thou- 
sand fold for the self-sacrifice you endured, and 
the misery that was your portion here upon 
earth ! 


A Modern Evil 


247 


CHAPTER XXL 

AT LAST I 

*‘Oh ! fear not in a world like this, 

And thou shalt know ere long, 

Know how sublime a thing it is 
To suffer and be strong.” 

— Longfellow 

October had come, and peace brooded like the 
wing of an angel over our fair land once more. 
In the Venarez residence everything was astir. 
Jack was at home. Since Eloise had returned 
she had been taking a quiet rest, and she needed 
it, for she was quite broken down. Zida came 
every day. She looked very sweet in her 
^widow’s weeds,” and a changed little woman it 
was. She and Jack had been together to-day for 
the first time since that night never to be for- 
gotten ; but they were very quiet. Zida had ren- 
dered herself very dear to Mrs. Nevarro by her 
constant attentions, and by her apparent deep 
grief for her husband, and the childless mother 
lavished all her pent up love for her dead chil- 
dren upon her son's wife. Jack was somewhat 
thinner than of yore, and still carried his left arm 
in a sling. Evidently he had known what war- 
fare means, He was somewhat sobered, too. To 



248 


A Modern Evil 


the day of his death, that rash act which he came 
so near committing would be a source of 
much regret. Twelve months had changed Jack 
materially. Zida had gone home, and Jack had 
strolled off down street. Twilight was falling. 

Eloise, feeling sadder than usual, had gone to 
the piano, and after running her fingers over the 
keys a moment, began singing. Robed in soft 
white with snowy chrysanthemums in her dark 
hair and at her throat she made a pretty picture. 
Someone opened the door noiselessly and stood 
within the hall listening. He was reminded of a 
picture of St. Cecelia as he stood there. The 
next instant she stood face to face with Serrell 
Levare. 

“Why, Serrell, when did you come?” she man- 
aged to say, while a faint beautiful color over- 
spread her fair face. “This is a surprise.” 

“Yes?” he said with that rare smile which she 
prized so highly, still holding her hands. “I came 
just this evening. I would not apprise you of the 
fact. I wanted to surprise you. I rang, but you 
did not hear me, and as I heard you singing, I 
> could not resist the temptation to come in un- 
announced.” 

“That was right,” she said, “but how it startled 
me when I looked up and saw you standing: 
there !” 

He led her to a seat and sat down before her. 
There was a moment’s awkward silence, then he 
spoke. 

“I have come, dear, to tell you that I have not 
changed, and that in spite of everything I love 
you still. My darling,” he went on passionately. 


A Modern Evil 


M9 

drawing her unresisting to him. “I offer you 
again the heart that you refused three years ago 
— the heart that has been yours through all, and 
yours only. Eloise, it is needless to tell you that 
I have loved but one woman. I have nothing to 
regret, as I succeeded in making my wife su- 
premely happy, as you know. She never guessed 
our secret and I thank God for that. I thank 
Him that you taught me to be unselfish ; to think 
of another’s happiness before our own. Dear 
one — my guardian angel, I thank Heaven that 
we may be happy yet if you will it so. What is 
your answer, Eloise ?” 

“I have not changed, Serrell.” 

'‘I might have known that,” he said, folding 
her to his heart. “Such women as you never 
change. Let there be no delay then ; there is no 
need. Let us not postpone our happiness any 
longer. I will give you just two weeks to enjoy 
the freedom of your spinsterhood,” smiling — “not 
a day more. So you needn’t protest. We’ve had 
to wait for our happiness too long. Let it be a 
quiet affair. It will be different from the other,” 
he continued with a touch of sadness. “I am go- 
ing to purchase Gray Turrets of Mrs. Nevarro 
for our future home. We will spend our honey- 
moon there, dear, and it will end only with life. 
You shall live by the sea as you said you would 
long ago, and I will be with you, and not as a 
friend, thank Heaven; but as something a great 
deal nearer and dearer and infinitely better.” 

There was a moment’s blissful silence, in which 
a bell in a distant belfry tolled mournfully. It 


^50 A Modern Evil 

recalled to Levare another night when he had 
heard it. 

“Shall it be as I wish, dear?’" 

“Yes, Serrell.” 

He raised her hand to his lips and then holds it 
off from him, regarding the exquisite diamond 
ring in answer to her questioning look. 

“No,"’ he said, “I am not jealous of poor Na- 
varro’s ring, and I want you to wear it because 
he wished it. He had everything else necessary 
to make him a happy man but your love, and you 
know the saying, ‘If I have not love, I have noth- 
ing." Poor Nevarro ! He loved you very deeply, 
but, my little woman, I am thankful that the 
priceless treasure of your love is mine alone.” 

Two weeks later the Morning Times con- 
tained the following description of the wedding: 

“Yesterday we attended the marriage of our 
accomplished young writer. Miss Eloise Venarez, 
to our able attorney and fellow-citizen, Hon. Ser- 
rell Levare. The marriage took place at the 
bride’s beautiful home, and was one of the pret- 
tiest weddings we have witnessed for many a 
day. It was quite an informal affair; only the 
immediate relatives and a few friends being pres- 
ent. The happy pair left for Gray Turrets, their 
future home, on the evening train. Hon. and 
Mrs. Levare will be greatly missed from our 
midst, and carry with them the best wishes of a 
host of friends.” 

After the ceremony Serrell had introduced the 
minister to his wife. He came forward and con- 
gratulated her, saying as he did so : 

“Do you not remember me, Mrs. Levare ?’" 


A Modern Evil 


^Si 


Eloise regarded him a moment silently. 

^‘No, I’m afraid I do not,” she said, smiling a 
little, “and yet it seems that I have seen you 
somewhere.” 

“Do you not remember a small boy who one 
evening long ago assisted you home with a little 
child?” 

The color rushed to the girFs face. This man, 
then, with his clerical air and polished manners, 
had been the bootblack of Johnson’s Alley ! 

“Yes, indeed, I do remember you,” she said, 
warmly. “I trust God may bless you in your no- 
ble profession !” 

“I little thought when your husband asked me 
to officiate to-day that you were to be the bride. 
I recognized you the moment you came into the 
room. I never forget a face.” 

He stood holding her hand a moment. 

“And the little boy? I suppose he is still with 
you ?” 

Eloise did not reply immediately and when she 
did her voice trembled. 

“The little boy went to dwell with the angels 
the day after we met you.” 

They were silent a moment. Then Serrell 
spoke : 

“You would have seen more of Rev. Mr. How- 
ard, my dear, but since his ordination he has 
been at Tampa. When we were stationed there, 
before going to Cuba, he was conducting a re- 
vival which most of the boys attended. He has 
only just returned.” 

“Yes, indeed,” the young pastor said with a 
thoughtful air. “We will never know until the 


2^2 A Modern Evil 

day of judgment the incalculable amount of good 
that was accomplished there.” 

“It’s all for the best, I suppose,” Mrs. Nevarro 
was saying in a resigned way on the evening of 
Serrell’s marriage, as she and Mrs. Van Worth 
sat together in the Nevarro drawing-room, “but 
she’ll never make Serrell the wife that my poor 
Lillian did — never !” 

They had been married half a year. Zida and 
Jack were visiting them. Zida had discarded her 
deep mourning. She was robed in pure white. 
Serrell had been working very hard for the past 
two months. He was taking a vacation now, and 
he and Eloise were walking up the long cypress- 
bordered avenue that led to their horne. 

“It was here that I thought you were lost to 
me forever,” he said, pressing her arm to his 
side. I spent the most wretched moments of my 
life here, dear ; and it is here that I will spend the 
remainder of my life. We never thought then 
that we would be so happy, did we ?” 

That morning when Serrell and Jack had gone 
into the smoking room, Serrell slapped him on 
the shoulder, saying: 

“Marriageable orphans are scarce. Jack, but 
you and Zida will have a double dose of mothers- 
in-law. Three women to one man is rather more 
than a match.” 

“Not a bit of it !” the other said, coolly, remov- 
ing his cigar from his lips a moment. “You see 
that is a prearranged affair. Mrs. Van and Ne- 
varro will live at the Nevarro home. Zida and I 


A Modern Evil 


^53 

are going to take a home further out of town. 
She will sell her house.” 

Jack’s feet were propped upon the fireplace, 
and he leisurely smoked a cigar. 

“When is the thing to take place?” Serrell 
asked after a moment’s silence. 

The other did not answer at once. 

“I don’t know, Levare,” he said at last, remov- 
ing his cigar from his lips and staring moodily 
before him. “Zida and I can’t make up our 
minds that it is right. She seems to think it al- 
most a sin. It seems that poor Nevarro has been 
dead such a short while, and to think that he 
should so soon be forgotten !” 

“I cannot see the sin in it,” Serrell replied, 
blowing a volume of smoke to the ceiling. “Earle 
has been dead almost a year, and that you two 
should marry was his dying wish, you know.” 

The other was silent a moment. 

“His was one of the grandest natures I ever 
knew,” he said suddenly. “He was utterly beyond 
my comprehension. Women are strange creat- 
ures, Levare. She could not be happy with him, 
and now she loves me. After having known a 
man like that she can love a man of my stamp. 
I cannot understand it. The longer I live the 
more clearly am I convinced that all great men 
do not have biographies ; neither are they known 
to fame, but when we come to know them thor- 
oughly, we find them among all classes and in 
every walk of life. We will not be married be- 
fore spring out of respect to poor Nevarro’s 
memory.” 

* * * * * ^ ^ * 


254 


A Modern Evil 


Twilight is falling. Eloise and Serrell are sit- 
ting beside an open window, through which 
drifts in a balmy breeze. The evening stillness 
is broken by Zida’s happy laugh from the veran- 
da, where she and Jack are enjoying themselves 
in a hammock. The sea zephyrs have risen, and 
the majestic dark cypresses in the yard, clothed 
in their feathery foliage, sway their gigantic 
arms to and fro with a gentle whispering, deli- 
cious and soothing. From the far-off fields 
comes the faint tinkle of cow bells, and the dis- 
tant bleating of a solitary sheep; a bat wheels 
low in pursuit of prey, while the monotonous 
lapping of the waves beats on the stillness.. In 
one of the cabins near there is an unusual commo- 
tion. Old Uncle Tom is holding prayer meeting 
at his house to-night, and a crowd of “darkies’" 
have congregated about the door. Suddenly a 
weirdly-sad sound breaks the stillness. Services 
have begun, and they are singing a song. It is 
sung in that wailing, crooning cadence peculiar 
to the negroes of the South : 

“W’en yer go down ter Jordon member me. 
Lord, 

Dere’s a little wheel er turnin’ in mer heart ” 

Other voices take it up, and it increases in vol- 
ume. In spite of the ludicrousness of the words 
there is something inexpressibly pathetic in it all. 

‘T cannot but think of Ada,” Eloise said, slip- 
ping her arm around her husband’s neck. ‘T had 
a letter from her this morning, in which she says 
she is happily married. Her husband, she says, 


A Modern Evil 


255 


is as kind to her as if she were a little child. She 
deems divorce one of the greatest concessions 
ever granted an erring and unhappy generation. 
There is nothing that so effectually kills energy, 
and smothers ambition as an incongenial and 
unhappy marriage. What would her life have 
been had she remained the wife of Ballette? 
Living with so coarse a creature she would have, 
eventually, lost all of her refinement and self- 
respect, as his will was so much stronger than 
hers, and I fully believe in the words : 

“ ‘Thou art mated to a clown, 

And the grossness of his nature hath the power 

to drag thee down " ” 

all arguments to the contrary notwithstanding. 
Happily married, the possibilities of her young 
life are boundless. She was far too young when 
she married Ballette to use the discretion which 
is an essential factor in all happy marriages. Per- 
sons who cannot agree will separate anyway ; and 
is not a lawful divorce preferable to a simple 
leave taking? Should an innocent and inoffen- 
sive man or woman be compelled to live a life- 
time of unhappiness because of an error of 
youth? Most assuredly not. We are only hu- 
man, and when that is admitted everything is ad- 
mitted, and a human law has provided a merci- 
ful escape for the unfortunate man or woman 
who finds, instead of the expected Eden, in this 
divine institution, a perfect Hades.’' 

She was silent a moment, and then : 

‘‘She is happy at last, despite Earle’s predic- 


A Modern Evil 


256 

tion to the contrary. He feared that she would 
gradually drift downward, but, thank God, she 
has not. Poor Earle! He was sincere in his 
aversion to the divorce law, as the subsequent 
events of his life gave proof. He would have had 
Zida remain with him as his wife, even tho' life 
were torture. I am forced to believe that the 
pride which prompts such an action is a curse 
rather than an honor.” 

Again that happy laugh reaches them from the 
veranda. It is in unison this time. 

“I am so glad that they are going to be happy 
at last,” she said, nestling her head against his 
shoulder. 

Serreirs arms tightened around her. 

“As we are, my precious wife,” he says, and 
there is an expression of great thankfulness in his 
dark, quiet eyes. “When a man possesses the un- 
divided love of a pure wife, he is blest indeed. 
Heaven has been kind to us, my Eloise, in grant- 
ing us at last the blessed realization of all our 
hopes ; and I am a devout believer in the justice 
and wisdom of the decrees of God, and can 
never thank Him, tho’ my life shall be spent in 
that endeavor, for the wondrous love He has 
shown me in granting me the love of a dear wife 
in whose affection I am supremely blest. A good, 
pure woman is God’s masterpiece.” 


The End. 


Sam S. k Lee Shubert 

direct the following theatres and theatrical 
attractions in America : 


Lyric, Casino and Princess 
Theatres, New York. 

Garrick Theatre, Chicago. 

Lyric Theatre, Philadelphia. 

Shubert Theatre, Brooklyn. 

Belasco Theatre, Washing- 
ton. 

Belasco Theatre, Pitts<burg. 

Empire Theatre, Newark. 

New Theatre, Utica. 

Grand Opera House, Syra- 
cuse. 

Baker Theatre, Rochester. 

Shubert Theatre, Provi- 
dence. 

Worcester Theatre, Worces- 
ter. 

Hyperion Theatre, New 
Haven. 

Lyceum Theatre, Baltimore. 

Lyceum Theatre, Buffalo. 

Colonial Theatre, Cleveland. 

Rand’s Opera House, Troy. 

Garrick Theatre, St. Louis. 

Sam S. Shubert Theatre, 
Norfolk, Va. 

Grand Opera House, Colum- 
bus. 

New Theatre, Cincinnati. 

Mary Anderson Theatre, 
Louisville. 

New Theatre, Richmond, 
Va. 

New Theatre, Lexington, 
Ky. 

New Theatre, Mobile. 

New Theatre, Atlanta. 

Shubert Theatre, Milwau- 
kee. " ' 


Lyric Theatre, New Or- 
leans. 

New Marlowe Theatre, 
Chattanooga. 

New Theatre, Detroit. 

Grand Opera House, Dav- 
enport, Iowa. 

New Theatre, Toronto. 

New Sothern Theatre, Den- 
ver. 

Sam S. Shubert Theatre, 
Kansas City. 

Majestic Theatre, Los An- 
geles. 

Belasco Theatre, Portland. 

Shubert Theatre, Seattle. 

Majestic Theatre, San Fran- 
cisco. 

Mme. Bernhardt in reper- 
toire. 

E. H. Sothern & Julia Mar- 
lowe in repertoire. 

Mrs. Patrick Campbell in 
repertoire. 

Margaret Anglin in reper- 
toire. 

Virginia Harned in “The 
Girl in Waiting.” 

Drina De Wolfe and 
Charles Cartwright in a 
new play. 

Cyril Maude and Winifred 
Emery in repertoire. 

Arnold Daly in repertoire 

Henry Miller in a new 
play. 




Louis Mann and Clara Lip- 
man in “Julie Bonbon.” 

Guy Standing in a new 
play. 

Mary Shaw in “The Love 
That Blinds.” 

Henry Woodruff in “Brown 
of Harvard.” 

W. H. Thompson in “Mon- 
ey Talks.” 

“A Midsummer’s Eve,” by 
Evelyn Greenleaf Suther- 
land. 

A new play by George 
Hazleton. 

“The Secret Orchard,” by 
Channing Pollock. 

De Wolf Hopper in “Hap- 
pyland.” 

Paula Edwardes in “Prin- 
cess Beggar.” 


Eddie Foy in “The Earl and 
the Girl.” 

Jefferson De Angelis in 
“Fantana.” 

Julia Sanderson in “The 
Motor Girl.” 

Marguerite Clark, in a new 
opera. 

Christie Macdonald in a 
new opera. 

“Mexicana,” with Louis 
Harrison. 

“The Social Whirl,” with 
Adele Ritchie, Jos. Coyne 
and Ross & Fenton. 

“The Babes and the Baron.” 

“The Blue Moon.” 

“Veronique.” 

Peter F. Dailey in a new 
musical comedy. 

“Queen Xixi of Ix.” 


The following attractions also play ex- 
clusively in their theatres : 


David Belasco’s Attrac- 
tions : 

Mrs. Leslie Carter in a new 
play. 

Blanche Bates in “The Girl 
of the Golden West.” 

David Warfield in “The 
Music Master.” 

Bertha Galland in a new 
play. 

Harrison Gray Fiske’s 
Attractions : 

Mrs. Fiske in “The New 
York Idea.” 

“Leah Kleschna.” 


Mme. Kalich in “Therese 
Raquin.” 

Walter Lawrence’s At- 
tractions : 

Henry E. Dixey in “The 
Man on the Box.” 

Cyril Scott in “The Prince 
Chap.” 

“Mrs. Temple’s Telegram.” 
Carlotta Nillson in a new 
play. 

Robert Hunter’s Attrac- 
tions : 

“Before and After.” 


You cannot go wrong in selecting one of 
these play-houses for an evening’s entertain- 
ment in whatever city you may happen to be. 


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